


now i'm number one (who's lost in love)

by xikan (chamsae)



Series: fiat justitia ruat caelum [1]
Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Lawyers, Hand Jobs, Implied/Referenced Blow Jobs, M/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-21
Updated: 2016-07-03
Packaged: 2018-05-08 04:35:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 24,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5483675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chamsae/pseuds/xikan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jihoon takes pride in being in control at court except that behind the confident façade, Soonyoung has him wrapped around his finger too easily it’s almost laughable. (a.k.a how Prosecutor Lee and Lawyer Kwon came to be through terrible hookups and unofficial soju dates.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. case one: prima facie

**Author's Note:**

> Law AU. The title is derived from Chris Brown's Do Better. This fic is inspired by the kdrama 'I Can Hear Your Voice' (너의 목소리가 들려) and 'How to Get Away with Murder' sans magical abilities and bloodshed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [prima facie:](http://www.legal-dictionary.thefreedictionary.com/prima+facie) on the first appearance; a fact presumed to be true unless it is disproved.

Jihoon takes pride in remaining poised in the courtroom regardless of how bleak winning the prosecution may seem. He’s the kingpin and controls the outcome (and besides, watching rookie lawyers who are too eager lose their first case fuels his self-satisfaction). 

But that is not the case today. The defendant doesn’t even waver when Jihoon addresses the list of crimes committed by the defendant to the jury. There’s a sly smile plastered on Lawyer Kwon’s face when they meet eyes and no—Jihoon is definitely not staring at his lips and how his suit frames his body so tightly and how it will feel like to trace the expanse of the lawyer’s skin with his fingers—Jihoon quickly glances to jury to see how long it will take to convince them that the accused is guilty before drawing out more evidence. 

“I deny these allegations. My defendant pleads innocence,” the lawyer states before adding, “I would like to introduce Doctor Park who will be testifying on the defendant’s behalf that this was not an act of manslaughter but rather an event due to mental illness.” 

Rolling his eyes, Jihoon watches the expert witness’ testimonial before directing his attention to the jury again. From the copious amounts of whispering and _oohs,_ the jurors seem to be convinced by the sob story. Drumming his fingers on the desk, Jihoon’s starting to become impatient, and maybe even low-key panicking because the files of evidence stacked beside him is going to lose credibility due to a licenced psychiatrist. No one’s going to give a shit about pictures of a knife coated with blood found at the crime scene when a professional is holding up medical reports. Jihoon huffs in irritation because Kwon Soonyoung has the audacity to quirk his lips up to a smirk. 

The air is tense when both men get on the same elevator that afternoon after the trial. Jihoon finds it hard to breathe when rage is running through his veins, threatening to consume his body whole. He’s not supposed to be the one storming out the courtroom angrily when the judge tells the defendant that he’s free to go. 

“Thanks for making my job easier, Prosecutor Lee. I always seem to win when I’m up against you,” Lawyer Kwon smugly says. 

“Don’t push it. You just got lucky today,” Jihoon retorts, although it’s not exactly true. 

Ever since Soonyoung joined the firm, Jihoon has been taking up more cases when he sees who’s on the defence counsel. In short, Lawyer Kwon turned the prosecutors into a frantic mess from the moment he walked in because he’s articulate, calculated and coaxes people into believing every single word he says with ease. It’s a strenuous fight and Soonyoung’s not backing down from the challenge too, but the prosecutor is ready to remove those who are deemed as threats. (Yejin tells him that the whole hot-headed prosecutor versus a passionate lawyer battle is beginning to sound like the start of a cliché soap opera. Jihoon thinks otherwise). 

When the doors open, the lawyer flashes a grin when Jihoon doesn’t mirror his expression.

_That fucker._

 

 

There’s a sudden bright beam of light emitting from Jihoon’s phone, and he props himself up on his bed and reaches for the device. Swiping the screen, an image of the night sky and _Woozi! Today was such a great day, I’m hoping you’re having a good night too._ underneath it pops up. Jihoon grins, wiping out the events of dealing with an overly prepared lawyer and the Prosecution Board passive aggressively telling him to step up his game and stop the recent streak of loses from his mind. 

There’s a certain mysteriousness involved with what he’s been doing on the dumb dating app for the past few months. Although Jihoon hasn’t disclosed any personal information to the guy he’s been chatting with because the both of them aren’t ready, or maybe both of them are just cautious due to the risk of meeting dodgy men as often discussed on social media (he really hopes it’s the former reason), Jihoon’s glad that he can look forward to this after a stressful day at work. 

When his phone buzzes, Jihoon can feel the beats of his heart speed up. It’s not fair. Mystery man who goes by the name of _Hoshi_ sends a series of photos of him in the gym—he’s wearing a sleeveless shirt, purposely showing off his toned arms. However, his face is cut off and Jihoon contemplates on asking him to reveal some more skin. He sighs, he shouldn’t get too excited. Plopping down onto the bed, Jihoon types back a reply but backspaces immediately right after, wishing him a good night instead. 

 

 

“We’re going drinking after work. You should come with us,” Wonwoo says. 

Putting his pen down, Jihoon looks up with an eyebrow raised. “I thought we were going to watch movies at your place tonight though.”

Wonwoo fidgets in his spot and tugs at the sleeves of his prosecutor’s robe, almost hesitant to carry on. “We can do it tomorrow? It’s just that it’s Soonyoung’s birthday today and we’re having a last minute party.” 

With his mouth agape, Jihoon pauses for a while to soak in the nonsense sprouting from his friend’s lips. “I’m disappointed, Prosecutor Jeon. I can’t believe you’re betraying me to hang out with him, a lawyer.” 

“He’s not that bad, really,” answers Wonwoo, because he’s never really had a proper feud with Soonyoung both in _and_ outside of court. 

“It’s fine, I’ll just work on the new case today.”

Wonwoo sighs at the sight of the younger’s forlorn expression when he leaves Jihoon’s office, but then again, he’s not in the position to delve into their personal business. 

 

 

The first thing Jihoon thinks of after stepping out of the shower is his bed (and also the movie he was supposed to watch with Wonwoo tonight. And yes, he’s still bitter about it). Throwing the towel over his head, he ends up on his back on the soft mattress with a phone in his hands. It’s a lonely summer night and Jihoon wonders if he should go out more because when he’s not working, he’s always preoccupied with his phone. 

There’s a notification from the dating app and Jihoon’s lips curl into a grin—there’s a photo of a Martini, followed by a series of _missing you!_ emoticons. Jihoon pictures a sophisticated man of similar age, if not slightly older, who has his life together and is romantic and is also the type who prefers oxfords over brogues. However, that perfect image is shattered when he recalls what his fellow prosecutor told him today—Soonyoung’s drinking with the entire firm right now—Jihoon sets his phone down and makes an inaudible sound. He doesn’t want to think about Lawyer Kwon and his smug attitude and his winning streaks so when he finally switches the lights off, Jihoon hopes that one day he can muster up the courage to ask Hoshi out so the remnants of Kwon Soonyoung in his memories can be forgotten once and for all. 

 

 

It’s nearing eight in the morning and Jihoon fights back a yawn when he locks his car. His mother notifies him on KakaoTalk that his cousin recently got engaged back in Busan and that Jihoon should settle down with someone nice soon because he’s already in his late twenties with a stable income. Making a face, he continues to trudge towards the elevators and types a congratulatory message. He doesn’t have the heart to tell her that he’s being intimate with someone he hasn’t even met in real life yet. 

A vehicle swerves in and honks, signalling the prosecutor to get out of the way when the person behind the wheel slams on the brakes. Jihoon almost drops his phone out of shock and stares at the impending danger, until he is forcefully yanked back to safety. 

“I think that it would be hilarious if you ended up in court for damaging someone’s car with your body. But that means I won’t get to see my favourite prosecutor ever again if you’re locked up in jail.”

The taunting voice belongs to no other but Lawyer Kwon. What an extra shitty way to start the morning. “I’m pretty sure you meant the hospital,” Jihoon scowls and lets go from his grip. 

“Then you leave me no choice but to rub my victories at court in your face while you lie helpless on the hospital bed.” 

Jihoon makes a grunting sound at the back of his throat and reflects on why he spends so much time loathing Soonyoung’s guts and vice versa. He doesn’t get any answers, and instead decides to dash forward to the elevator, slipping in and jabbing the close button repeatedly. If Jihoon can’t risk the chance of being sued for punching him in the face as an outlet for his constant rage and headaches, then this will suffice, hopefully. It’s going to be priceless watching the doors close right before the lawyer has the chance to step in, except that at the last second, a hand is wedged between the doors and it bounces right open. 

Jihoon yells out vulgarities in his head because of two reasons—one, Soonyoung is fucking smirking as if he’s telling him _surprise bitch! I bet you thought you’d seen the last of me_ —and the expression seems to be permanently stamped on the lawyer’s face. And two, Jihoon’s office is on the sixteenth floor and people are filing in, pushing the two men backwards in one corner. 

“Fate is funny. You’re always stuck to me,” Soonyoung whispers, hot breath tickling the prosecutor’s ears. 

Curling his hands into fists, Jihoon grits his teeth and replies louder than expected, “shut up.” Jihoon receives a few glances of distaste because it’s too early in the morning for disturbance and everyone’s uncomfortable in the tiny, humid elevator. If only he was wearing his prosecutor’s robe, then no one would even have the audacity to bat an eye. And it’s also not like the prosecutor purposely wants to press his body against the taller male and take a waft of his cologne. No, definitely not. “I hope you stub your toe on your way out.” 

(Jihoon visits Wonwoo’s apartment after long hours of work that very day. His friend is getting ready to watch some terrible romcom, and Jihoon opts to steal some of his popcorn instead after removing his shoes, except that he’s way too eager and stubs his toe on the side of the couch in the process. Woe is him).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> angry prosecutor lee jihoon gives me life woohoo
> 
> (In all seriousness, thanks for reading the first chapter! I hope it was fun to read. Feel free to discuss the fic with me + constructive criticism if you have any)


	2. case two

It’s quiet when Jihoon packs up his files. The trial ended with a guilty verdict and in this empty courtroom, Jihoon’s not going to even bother to be courteous to Soonyoung who’s currently wallowing in despair with his face buried into his hands. 

“Quite a show you put on today—this is why you should’ve listened when I insisted on a deal so we didn’t have to go to court—your client pleads guilty and the years behind bars reduces,” Jihoon chimes when he makes his way to the lawyer. “This will be a good bedtime story. I’ll be sure to tell it to my grandchildren one day.” 

“Just go. I’m not in the mood to argue with you.” 

“I hope you finally understand that there’s a stark difference between us and that you should know where you stand.” The prosecutor can see that the lawyer is losing tolerance by the way his hands are curling into fists, eyebrows furrowing and jaw clenched tightly, and albeit Jihoon knows he’s stepping over the line, he decides to press on further akin to hurting an open wound. “But then again, I don’t blame you. After all, you’re just a rookie who is inept at many things like today’s trial per se. It’s almost sad watching you fumble on your words and yelling objection to everything I said out of desperation.”

_“Lee Jihoon,”_ Soonyoung raises his voice, but the man in front doesn’t seem to get the idea. The prosecutor’s sending a smirk in return. 

“What are you going to do?” Jihoon taunts, malice dripping from his words. A chuckle escapes from his mouth when the lawyer bares his teeth and tells Jihoon to get out, voice taut with anger. “Sue me for slander? Or do we need to send your incompetent ass back to law school?” 

Kwon Soonyoung’s all bark but no bite at court, and Jihoon’s beyond satisfied for this opportunity to be vindictive and reclaim his victories from someone who has been trying to relegate the prosecutor to second rank in their fight for the top since day one. 

And his satisfaction _does_ show for the remainder of the day—Jihoon hums a tune when he pushes the doors into the meeting room with the rest of the prosecutors exchanging confused glances behind. It’s oddly out of character but no one questions it, apart from Lee Chan, who’s freshly graduated from law school and is here for experience because of connections in the industry—he comes from a long line of judges and prosecutors, and is also apparently labelled as a prodigy because of his outstanding grades.

Chan yelps when hot liquid from his mug disperse all onto the floor, staining the cream coloured carpet brown. Prosecutor Lee whips around and Chan cowers on instinct, but the older doesn’t yell at him like he usually would. Jihoon gestures everyone to take a seat even though the room reeks of bitter caffeine. 

Wonwoo catches the younger opening his mouth and trying to find the right words to say but stops him in time. “Jihoon’s in a good mood today so you don’t have to say anything.”

“What? But I still should apologize—”

“—If you want to survive here, you just have to get used to it and move on, kid.”

Chan nods, adding it to his mental checklist of the many things not to do to anger Prosecutor Lee. 

 

 

Handing a file to Jihoon, Hyerin says, “Soonyoung’s on defence again. You should cut him some slack after what happened today to be honest.”

“I can’t. Making his life complicated is my job,” replies Jihoon. He doesn’t have the time for the older to berate him like a mother nagging at her son. 

“It’s good to win, but you don’t need to belittle him,” replies Hyerin, a sigh following after. “He reminds me of you when you first started here, and I’m sure you know the feeling of being stepped on even though you’re trying really hard to do your best.”

Making a face, Jihoon mumbles, “we’re not the same.” 

“You keep believing that.” Chuckling, Hyerin makes her way out of the office. “Don’t skip meals, okay?”

“I won’t, _mother,_ ” Jihoon says with a grin.

He opens up the file after the door closes; a high school student is summoned to court for the attempted murder of a high-profile politician’s daughter who is currently in hospital. 

It’s going to be a long day. 

 

 

Jihoon’s surprised when he’s greeted with Soonyoung’s presence as he enters the printing room because it’s nearing midnight and everyone already left hours ago. So there he is, phone in one hand and body leaning against the printer which doesn’t seem to go any faster. Soonyoung seems to be preoccupied with his phone too, but Jihoon doesn’t have the energy to make snarky remarks at the firm’s hotshot lawyer because he has finally scored a date with Hoshi (and also because the new case requires lots of paperwork and Jihoon just wants to get out of the office, get the work done and sleep). 

His phone vibrates and a message appears on his screen; Hoshi asks what he’s been up to. The prosecutor glances at the machine because the printer continues to churn out paper like an endless cycle, and resumes to texting— _Nothing much. Just lonely._ —and sighs. 

Seconds later, Jihoon receives another message— _How about I make you feel better? Where are you right now? ;)_ —and then tells him— _Still in the office. Show me what you got babe._

Hoshi replies faster than expected. Skimming through the large chunk of text— _I push you against the printer and then I press my body against yours and_ —Jihoon laughs at the reply. Hoshi’s hormones are all over the place (read: single and lonely like Jihoon)—and almost forgets he’s not the only one in the room because Lawyer Kwon is sending an expression of distaste at the prosecutor. 

Soonyoung gathers his papers and is about to exit the room until he hears Prosecutor Lee mumble _cute_ the exact moment his own phone illuminates, a message displaying on the screen. Soonyoung pauses on his tracks because the text reads— _you’re so cute_ —followed by a spam of suggestive emojis. “Oh my god.”

“What?” the prosecutor replies with a hint of irritation. “Honestly why do you print so much, there are other printers not in use—” 

“—You’re _Woozi_ right?” the lawyer interrupts. 

When the realization hits, Jihoon feels like he’s been knocked out by a huge tidal wave and then swept away, body dragged across the embedded rocks on the ocean floor. The heartbeats are pounding so hardly at the chest to the point where he can feel himself shake because this cannot be it. It can’t be it. Of all the people in Seoul, Soonyoung couldn’t be the one he has been sending a mixture of dirty and sweet texts to all this time. “Hoshi?”

The lawyer nods his head with shock etched on his face. 

“What the fuck,” Jihoon spits. He paces around the room frantically while reassuring himself that this isn’t real and is just a nightmare that should never be let out to daylight, except that this is reality and Jihoon’s stuck in this small room and can’t possibly leave so casually. “And making out in this room? Really?” 

“But you liked it,” the lawyer claims. 

It’s not fair because Soonyoung’s staying calm at situations like this while Jihoon’s legs feel like giving way at any moment. Covering his own face with two hands, Jihoon tries to coax himself back to his usual confident state but to no avail. 

Soonyoung laughs, inching closer to the prosecutor. He’s only teasing to see where Jihoon’s limits are similarly to how the prosecutor does every time they cross paths, but Jihoon brings his hands back down and tries to maintain eye contact, blatantly feigning confidence. The lawyer continues to walk towards the prosecutor, closing the space between them, hands lingering at the sides. 

And when they’re too close for comfort, Soonyoung whispers, lips ghosting over Jihoon’s ear, “you haven’t denied anything. Are you suggesting that these allegations are in fact true, Prosecutor Lee?” It sends shivers down the prosecutor’s spine and it’s almost laughable because the younger roars in court but it doesn’t mirror the current Jihoon he’s seeing. “Do you want to try it?”

Reality is a lot different to the messages exchanged, and Jihoon can’t seem to clear up his hazy mind when their faces are dangerously close. He’s trying to be coherent like he was at court earlier this morning, his mouth is dry and Soonyoung’s too close—Jihoon breaks eye contact and stares at the lawyer’s lips for too long. He gulps and finds himself nodding. 

Soonyoung doesn’t give Jihoon a second to prepare himself when he drops his belongings onto the floor because he kisses with urgency; lips move with desperation, noses bump and shaky hot breaths mingle in between with Jihoon’s fist curled tightly at his sides and the lawyer’s hands clutching on the fabric of Jihoon’s now crumpled shirt. Pulling back, he watches the prosecutor pant and tremble with light-headedness, hair dishevelled and face coated with a pink tinge. It’s almost unbelievable—the individual known as the assertive man in court who cannot be messed with to the entire firm is letting someone he’s at war with touch him without inciting a fight. Sliding to Jihoon’s waist with one hand and the other carding through his hair, the younger closes his eyes and whimpers when the lawyer jerks Jihoon’s body towards himself, sucking and nibbling swollen lips for the second time because if Jihoon’s going to win at court, Soonyoung might as well claim victory like this. 

When the air is no longer too thick to not be able to breathe in, the hammering beats of Jihoon’s own heart ringing in his ears gradually fade to mute. His body is still unsteady from the adrenaline and he tries to pat down his shirt back to the previous crisp and pristine state. 

Soonyoung adjusts his tie, calming down with slow breaths and heads to open the door. “So,” he says after a moment of silence and winks, “call me?” 

Jihoon laughs, flashing pearly whites and eyes pressed into crescent moons, and flips him off. 

 

 

When Soonyoung arrives in the office the next morning, Junhui, his secretary, waves before diverting his attention back to his laptop. He doesn’t see the Starbucks takeaway cup when he dumps his briefcase down onto his desk—the cup tips, inching away from the edge of table before landing safely in the lawyer’s hands when he lunges forward to catch it. 

“Did you get this for me?” Soonyoung asks. 

Junhui shakes his head. “It was already there when I got here.” 

“Oh man, I thought this was a gesture of us finally solidifying our unbreakable alliance.”

“Unbreakable alliance my ass. It either has poison in it or someone just really likes you,” Junhui replies with a chuckle. “Although I’m leaning towards the whole poison thing because, you know, crazy clients and all.”

Shrugging, Soonyoung takes a sip of the hot beverage. He almost misses the tiny handwritten message at the bottom of the cup when he settles it back down. Picking up his coffee, he squints at the blue ink and tries to scrutinize the sentence— _you forgot to give me your number, idiot_ —before grinning widely as if he won a championship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was rushing the last bits of college apps last minute (yikes) so sorry for the late-ish update, I cringed so much at the texts while I was writing this lmao I'm sorry @ God


	3. case three

Jihoon thinks he’s a pretty austere person. He’s clear-cut and efficient when it comes to his job, buckling down to work and not wasting time. However, the student in front of him is testing his patience because she’s bawling her eyes out and not answering questions, as if she’s waiting for him to pass her a box of tissues and a sympathetic pat on the back (which, let’s be real, is probably what Lawyer Kwon would do). 

“Look, crying won’t resolve the problem,” Jihoon tells her. 

“I swear this is a misunderstanding, I never had the intention to kill—”

“Let’s begin with the questioning,” Jihoon interrupts. “You’re Kang Soyeon, sixteen years of age and you understand that you’re being charged for the attempted murder of your classmate, right?”

 

 

“What do I need to do?” says Chan. He forces a lopsided smile, hoping to get on the prosecutor’s good side when in reality his body is consumed with dread. Jihoon’s office is tidy and modern but the air is cold. It’s uninviting unlike Yejin’s brightly lit and decorated office, but Chan really needs to secure a job with his own skills (even though the real reason why he’s here in the first place is because of his parents). Yejin dotes on him, luckily, but she’s not accepting potential interns at the moment so there’s no point in following her around like a lost puppy. 

“Rearrange the old files over there and sort them out by their dates,” Jihoon commands, almost letting out a laugh by the way the younger’s expression drops after waiting with bated breath. “And while you’re at it, I need a cup of coffee, short black.”

“So we’re not working on a case together?” 

Jihoon rolls his eyes. “No, now go.”

 

 

Someone enters the kitchenette when Chan’s waiting for the coffee mix to dissolve. From what he remembers, it’s Lawyer Chwe—laidback, friendly, regal features. He’s not too sure what a public defender is doing here at their floor, but he doesn’t question it. 

“Jihoon’s very picky so don’t overdo the sugar, one packet should be enough from my memory.” 

“Ah, thanks, Lawyer Chwe.” 

“Pain in the ass, isn’t he?” Hansol laughs at Chan’s wary expression. It’s always fun talking shit at the kitchenette. “He thought I was an assistant so on the first day of my job, he ordered me to make coffee when I was delivering something. It was only until later I told him I was actually a lawyer and he told me to fuck off. Good times.” 

“I see,” Chan awkwardly laughs. 

Hansol peers over the mug, the younger shuffling for him to inspect. “The coffee is as black as his soul. Perfect.” 

 

 

Placing the mug of hot coffee down onto Prosecutor Lee’s desk, Chan stands there for a while until the prosecutor gestures him to leave. The younger doesn’t budge. “Actually, I wanted to ask you why you’re treating me like a personal assistant.” It’s definitely not an act of defiance for speaking up rather than keeping quiet (and besides, Jihoon has the authority to fire him so he might as well find out the truth). 

“You do know the only reason why you’re here is because of your parents? You’re riding their coattails so I do not understand why you, with no experience whatsoever, would think we’ll welcome you with open arms,” Jihoon sighs. 

“I want to learn,” replies the younger, only to be surprised when the prosecutor slides his file across to him. “And I’m confident.” 

“Okay, if you really want to impress me, then tell me what you think of this case.” 

The younger flicks through the pages. “Winning the prosecution may be a bit difficult this time; Soonyoung hyung’s going to plead not guilty and most probably convince the victim to testify on Soyeon’s behalf. If we _do_ win, which is highly unlikely, emphasis on the _unlikely,_ he’s going to appeal for retrial.” 

“So you’re on first-name basis already, huh,” Jihoon thinks. And as if the younger heard his thoughts, he sees Chan’s face light up. It’s inevitable really, Soonyoung often makes his way into people’s conversations because the lawyer branches out to people—lawyer or not. Jihoon just really hates small talk. (Besides, he doesn’t really want to think about Kwon Soonyoung and his soft lips and his body flushed against Jihoon’s right now—his inability to push the older away like that particular night will be a disadvantage at court. Weakness should never be shown, _ever_ ). 

“He’s really nice and approachable,” chirps Chan, only hastily continuing when the prosecutor raises an eyebrow, “not that you’re not nice and approachable or anything.” Fiddling on his spot, Chan says, “Soyeon may actually be innocent but we can’t withdraw the indictment just yet. We need factual evidence this time so we should come up with a plan.”

“And what’s your proposal?”

“We get other students to be testify against the defendant and at the very last minute, we make an impact—we bring up another issue and pin it on Soyeon to shock the jury.”

Jihoon hums. “Not bad, intern. Not bad.” 

 

 

Holding the door for someone is common courtesy and in this case, pushing the open button for someone rushing towards closing elevator doors is a no-brainer. Jihoon wishes he wasn’t in the mood to be courteous today. 

Kwon Soonyoung steps in, and Jihoon shuffles to the corner, hoping he will go unnoticed. This proves to be a terrible (extremely pathetic) decision because they’re the only ones in there. 

“Morning,” the lawyer greets. It’s odd and foreign to the tongue—the atmosphere seems much more lax, no banter filling up the silence. 

“Mmm,” is all Jihoon manages to say. Tiny stuffy spaces and Lawyer Kwon should not go together. 

“Don’t be nervous,” Soonyoung tells him with a chuckle. “You blink a lot when you are.”

Well, there goes his intimidating, revered prosecutor façade.

“About the other night,” Jihoon trails off, heat creeping up his neck. Letting out his worries and constant reruns of what happened in the printer room thanks to his brain will do the trick for his frustrations. Yep. “I wasn’t in the right mind because of stress. I promise it won’t happen again.” 

“We’ll be seeing each other very soon though.” 

“What?” Jihoon says-almost-shouts. 

“At court,” Soonyoung leans in, breath grazing skin, nipping the tip of the prosecutor’s ears.

The elevator stops at the lawyer’s floor soon after, leaving the prosecutor to catch the breath he didn’t know he was holding and stabilizing the rapid beats of his heart when the door shuts. Rubbing the spot where Soonyoung bitten, Jihoon mumbles incoherencies for letting himself become a mess in front of the older again. 

When he finally reaches the level of his office, Jihoon treks out, stopping mid step when he shoves his hands inside his blazer pocket, the rough texture of crumpled paper brushing soft skin. Flattening it out, he tries to decipher the messy scribble of black ink—Soonyoung’s number. A sly fox indeed. 

 

 

They don’t text. And through the final weeks of preparation for the case, Jihoon finds himself sipping of what seems to be his third cup of coffee in the kitchenette. Wonwoo’s shooting a look of concern from his peripheral vision because it’s not even midday yet and he’s sure that much caffeine in the prosecutor’s system will never result in anything good, but Jihoon ignores him. 

Settling the mug down, he takes out the piece of paper that has been left in his pocket for a while and enters the lawyer’s number into his contacts. _But the name,_ Jihoon mumbles. _Hoshi?_ (He doesn’t want to be reminded of the embarrassing texts he had sent on the app). _Soonyoung?_ (They weren’t on a first-name basis and probably will never be). _Lawyer Kwon?_ (Too formal? Oh well). 

“So you’re taking Chan under your wing?” Wonwoo pipes up. He ransacks the cupboard for the blocks of chocolate he purchased from the convenience store across the road, scrunching his nose when he realises they’re gone. Wonwoo swears to never give in to one-plus-one deals ever again. 

Jihoon shrugs, stuffing the note back into his pocket. “He might be a valuable asset. If not, I’ll just fire him.” 

 

 

It’s only until the very last minute where Jihoon’s bundling up the paperwork to go to trial when Chan barges into his office. Without. Knocking. 

The younger pants, bereft of words. “I snooped around the school and managed to get a hold of this.” Handing the flash drive, Chan says, “it was a fight that occurred between the two students around a month ago.”

There’s no time to sit down and review the evidence, but Jihoon takes it and hopes for the best. 

 

 

Glancing at his file for one last time, Jihoon stands up to make his opening statement. “The defendant, Kang Soyeon, was never on good terms with her classmate, Jang Eunhee, who is also the daughter of the high-profile politician, Jang Taegoon. Therefore, she purposely pushed her off the human pyramid in P.E, causing the victim to sustain broken bones and severe head injuries. Jang Eunhee is currently fighting for her life in the hospital. Therefore, in accordance with the law, I am charging her for attempted murder.” 

“My defendant pleads innocence,” Soonyoung firmly states, denying all charges. 

Jihoon catches Soyeon heave a sigh of relief, but the fun has barely started. He claims, “although both students are from affluent households, the defendant had harboured great jealousy which ultimately lead her to plot the murder of the victim in broad daylight at school. So tell me, defendant, you hated Jang Eunhee because you weren’t loved by your father who’s always absent from home unlike Eunhee who always brought the gifts her father gave her to school. You wanted to get rid of her to the point where you attempted murder in front of your classmates so you could be known, so your father would finally acknowledge you.”

“Objection!” 

“Sustained,” the judge says, waving a hand for Soonyoung to start speaking. 

“This is just baseless conjecture. The victim did go to the hospital but the nurses said she’s fine. The height is too short to sustain such injuries, she landed on the safety mats with just a fractured ankle,” argues the lawyer. “Injuries in P.E class are unavoidable, and I’m sure you have sons and daughters who might’ve been hurt before or seen with your own eyes on how rough sports actually is,” Soonyoung informs the jury with gesticulation. “So when this human pyramid crumbled down, and supposedly my defendant was the one who pushed the victim from the top, can you automatically assume Kang Soyeon had intentions of murder? By prosecuting Soyeon for something she had no control over, should we prosecute the teacher too considering the fact that a teacher’s responsibility is to ensure safety within school grounds for their students?” 

At this rate, Jihoon might as well go back to his apartment and sleep than wait for the truth to unfold at court. Soonyoung’s using his infamous relate-with-the-jurors tactic and it’s bordering anticlimactic. Cross-examination goes by rapidly, but it diverges away from the topic of murder because teenagers are so fast to accuse even without witnessing the actual event. It brings Jihoon back to square one, so he whips out the final evidence Chan gave him today. “The defendant states that she never had murderous tendencies, but the fight in the canteen approximately a month ago in this video between the defendant and victim clearly shows she does.” 

A smirk forms on his face when Jihoon watches the defendant slinking into her chair when the recording plays. Although blurry, it is clear that Soyeon’s wrestling Eunhee in the middle of the cafeteria, pulling each other’s hair and throwing punches without clear precision while continuously screaming _bitch!_ and _I’ll kill you!_

Crossing his arms, the prosecutor catches the lawyer’s gaze, lips quirking up. Chan’s correct, the chance of winning the prosecution is highly unlikely but it’s much more fun to piss the older off through facial expressions. Soonyoung may think Jihoon can’t resist him when they’re alone together but at court, Jihoon dominates and he _knows._ The rush of adrenaline and the sudden high from being in control and taking the lead in the courtroom is just as great as defeating the defence counsel. 

Everything is fun and games until Lawyer Kwon announces that the victim herself will come in to testify on behalf of the defendant. Jihoon stretches, yawning in his spot. The battle between two high school students with too much wealth finally comes to an expected end. 

 

 

Leaving the court after a trial normally results in a very satisfied Jihoon (or cranky when the defence counsel wins). But today he’s content until Soonyoung yanks the younger by the arm.

“You knew my client wasn’t guilty,” growls the lawyer. “You could’ve locked an innocent person in jail.”

“But you won the case,” Jihoon says, indifferent. 

Soonyoung clenches his teeth, tightening the grip when Jihoon tries to pry his hands off. 

“I was following legal procedures,” Jihoon retorts in defence. “I even withdrew the indictment.”

“You’re not a real prosecutor,” Soonyoung states, voice laced with menacing undertones. “You don’t deserve the title.”

Remaining poised in whatever situation Jihoon’s stuck in is his forte. But not now. “Don’t belittle me. Don’t you fucking dare—” 

“At first I thought you were just passionate about your job.” Closing his eyes, Soonyoung takes a deep breath, and a lot louder this time, “but I was wrong. You’ll take whatever method to win every case because you’re greedy for gratification and praise from the higher-ups.”

They’re attracting attention and Jihoon really hopes his boss won’t find out and berate him for not being professional and arguing with a lawyer from their own firm. It won’t look good.

“You put yourself on a pedestal but in reality, you’re just a heartless monster. A person’s life is just a triviality to you, isn’t it?”

 _“Lawyer Kwon,”_ the prosecutor grunts. A small group of people are surrounding the two now, eyes of curiosity and hushed whispers circling around. 

But it only hits him when Soonyoung releases his grip and storms off, red marks on wrists. The pure disgust etched onto the lawyer’s face burns harder in Jihoon’s heart than any judging glances from the crowd.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy (belated) new year!


	4. case four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to thank my no. 1 boo^2 for supporting me even though you don’t stan Seventeen ♥ Without you I wouldn’t have written this chapter and venture into the dark side because “good catholic” wtf have i become

Jihoon doesn’t like Soonyoung because, as much as he doesn’t want to admit it, the lawyer’s a threat. The prosecutor’s pride is a set structure of years of experience, competence, layered with the occasional plea bargains when the accused is trapped in a dilemma of financial instability. But Lawyer Kwon comes along, knowing how to use his verbal skills at court to the full potential and coaxes people without coercion, interlaced with justice and the truth, crumbling down the wall of the younger’s pride. He’s good, the younger will give him that, but there’s a limit when they’re pushing each other’s buttons. 

“You look like you’re going to blow up because of Soonyoung instead of _blowing_ Soonyoung,” chuckles Wonwoo, face a rosy red and words slurring at the ends. 

Jihoon almost spits out his soju, making the expression on his face into some semblance of disgust. Tipsy Wonwoo consists of losing his inhibitions and no apparent brain to mouth filter, unlike the reserved and polite Prosecutor Jeon during the day. “Being a smartass is already irritating enough, but denouncing my title of prosecutor in public is a step too far because he doesn’t know how hard I worked to get to where I am today.” 

“But he had a reason,” Wonwoo insists. “And it isn’t about pride.” 

“An _unreasonable_ reason,” corrects Jihoon. He’s never letting a petty lawyer criticize him about the way the prosecutor operates, getting him riled up for days because Jihoon never makes mistakes. It’s entirely different to the arguments they’ve had—the anger after each verbal battle dissolves away quickly. The banter is trivial, but this incident at the last trial definitely isn’t. 

 

 

“Loosen up,” Jihoon comments. “I’m not firing you because we lost.”

Chan huffs a sigh of relief, the tension once trapped in his body slowly fading away. He had told the prosecutor that he’s confident, but the older can see straight through him. 

“A lawyer’s job is to discern whether their client is guilty or not. That means sometimes losing the prosecution is inevitable,” the prosecutor adds, “you need to learn to keep calm in situations like this because you will encounter these incidents more than you expect.”

“I’ll try my best,” replies Chan. 

Jihoon shakes his head and corrects him, “you won’t try your best, you will _do_ your best, am I clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good,” the older says. “I’ve referred you to Prosecutor General Park by the way. We’re all impressed that you actually took your time to find evidence that wasn’t presented to us. Usually, interns don’t do shit and just follow around helplessly.” 

“Thanks?” replies the younger, suppressing the grin forming on his face. Prosecutor Lee is perceived highly because of his skills in court but not by personality and behaviour to colleagues, so it’s strange but reassuring to know that the older thinks of Chan as having potential. Being regarded to the higher-ups is also beneficial, an advantage to his aspiring career as a prosecutor, hopefully clad in a black robe with two red stripes running down the front, establishing social order and public safety with clear judgement in the near future. 

“I’m going to court next week and I want you to go there and observe,” the prosecutor states. “You’ve been admitted to the bar but still need to undergo your two year training, so getting the second seat on the prosecution is not possible until you’re a junior prosecutor. However, I want you treat this case as your own, so write up a legal brief and any corresponding annotations on how you’re going to approach this and give it to me by the end of the day.” 

The intern nods in understanding, before saying firmly, “thank you for the opportunity. I won’t let you down.” 

 

 

When Jihoon starts up the engine, he almost misses the sound of his phone vibrating. He reaches for it, types his password and reads the text— _Hey. I’m sorry for lashing at you the other day in front of everyone. I’ll make it up to you, I promise. I’ll make you feel good._ —and rolls his eyes because Soonyoung most likely meant _better for yelling at you for doing your job correctly_ instead of _good,_ but there’s no time to spare to key in an aggressive text about the wrong use of vague diction because the trial is starting soon. When the loud hum of the vehicle simmers down, he presses the audio below the text but regrets it immediately after because the noise belting out of the speaker isn’t some sappy apology but Soonyoung’s moans instead. (He’s _so_ glad he made Chan go to court on his own). 

It’s like the Printer Room Escapades all over again but with exclusive special features added in and Jihoon’s pants feeling ten times tighter. His cheeks are warmer than usual and he can feel himself becoming hard without being touched. It’s humiliating, really, and Jihoon just wants the world to swallow him whole, disappearing forever without a trace.

But in this profession, Jihoon can’t escape and can only face what’s coming at him head on. And that is exactly what the prosecutor does when he reaches the district courthouse.

In the gallery while the prosecution and defence counsel are getting ready, Soonyoung sees Chan waving and patting the empty seat beside him. Since there are no jurors today, the atmosphere feels less tense. 

“No work today?” Chan asks, rummaging through his bag for a pen for notetaking. When he finally finds it, he settles it on top of the notepad resting on his lap.

Soonyoung nods and sits down. “I’m just here to support the defence. Hansol’s up against Prosecutor Lee today and you know, he isn’t too polite to rookie lawyers.” 

“Prosecutor Lee’s very blunt, isn’t he?” chuckles the younger. “And it’s a bit unfortunate because Lawyer Chwe won’t be able to defend the defendant today, vandalism isn’t considered a serious offence but there’s no way the accused is going to walk free. The kid will probably receive a fine up to two million won at most for defacing public property.”

The trial begins and like the usual, the judge gestures the prosecution to start with the opening statement and then the defence for rebuttal. It’s a new experience watching Jihoon from the gallery instead of directly facing him from the opposite side, fixating his eyes on how the prosecutor proceeds to hold himself and turning allegations to the truth orally. Hansol is doing quite well too, although a little slow but steady. 

However, Soonyoung finds himself shifting his gaze back to Jihoon occasionally, because one of Seoul’s top revered prosecutor is teetering, unconfident, yelling out unfounded slanderous allegations as if he’s overly eager to have the upper hand at court even though he already does. The desperation oozes out of Prosecutor Lee, fingers curling, teeth gritting and uncomfortably shifting on the spot, waiting for the trial to end at any second now but it has barely even started. 

Jihoon’s frustrated, that’s one thing for sure. Soonyoung stifles a loud cackle, envisioning a large bucket of popcorn to consume while watching the prosecutor spiral down to misery. Chan, on the other hand, seems to be concerned for his senior. 

The judge angrily tells the both sides to rephrase their questions but to no avail. It is only when Jihoon requests for a recess out of nowhere when everyone in the room can finally stop holding their breath, sharply cutting the tension and mess for a short period of time. When the banging sound of the gavel is heard to signal the two parties to clear their minds and recollect themselves, people start leaving the courtroom one by one. 

“Hey,” greets Soonyoung. He’s one of the last people left in the stuffy room.

“Don’t fucking _hey_ me,” retorts Jihoon, ignoring Chan yelling after him when he storms off with the older trailing after him.

Soonyoung stumbles on his feet when he’s dragged into an empty bathroom tucked at the end of the hallway. Jihoon knows this place too well from going to this district court for the past few years, considering the fact that this bathroom is particularly easy to miss. 

“Lawyer Kwon.” Jihoon’s trying to bite the down the urge to yell at him for the messages (and the fucking audio) this morning but he doesn’t have ample time to and he really prefers not to go back to court with a throbbing pain between his thighs and the sounds of Soonyoung’s moans replaying in his head for the rest of the trial. He already had his fair share of boners popping up at terrible timing during his university days in Busan, and Jihoon prefers not to go through it ever again now that he’s much older and working in Seoul. “You call that an apology? What the fuck.” 

“Is it not genuine enough?” questions Soonyoung, leaning in to study Jihoon’s expression of distaste. He doesn’t get a decipherable answer or any answer at all really. 

“Fuck,” the prosecutor hisses, albeit it comes out more of a pathetic squeak. They’re barely inches apart but Soonyoung’s just standing there and not doing anything, hands lazily resting in his jean pockets, waiting for time to scratch away. The lawyer’s stalling but they’re running out of time at this rate. “This is your fault. Fix it.”

“How so?” Jihoon doesn’t answer. Soonyoung lightly brushes the prosecutor’s crotch with his knee, eliciting a mewling noise out of Jihoon as a response of some sort instead. The lawyer laughs dryly at the way Jihoon clenches his teeth—the prosecutor is not the type to give in so easily no matter how pathetic it seems—and glares right after, all needy, sensitive, waiting to come undone by deft fingers. “You’re not really good at self-control, aren’t you?”

“So do something about it, you fucker.” 

Soonyoung’s actually not sorry because to him, Prosecutor Lee’s blinded by greed to the point where winning the prosecution through unethical methods is priority instead of finding out the truth before going to court sluggishly waiting for an acquittal, leaving innocent families in tears and trepidation. Kneeing him again, it’s slightly forceful this time, pressure against clothed skin, to see how much Jihoon can take because he needs to be put in his place, admitting defeat one way or another. The lawyer halts and takes a step back. 

“Do what?” Soonyoung asks with a mischievous glint in his eyes, although he already knows the answer because Jihoon now has his robe hitched up, fabric scrunched under one hand right above the distinct outline on his pants. “You’re always so quick to tell me I’m a terrible lawyer but you aren’t very vocal when it comes to things like this.” 

“I’m not going to fucking beg—” Jihoon croaks out, immediately bringing his hands to his mouth, back digging at the edge of the bathroom sink. Jihoon bites down hard onto his knuckles, and then closes his eyes shut when the lawyer places a warm hand on the prosecutor’s jerking hips to keep him steady. 

The prosecutor doesn’t know what’s more outrageous—that he somehow convinced the judge to grant him a recess even though it was unnecessary, or that he’s in the middle of the bathroom with his pants being pushed down to his ankles out in the open instead of a locked cubicle, and Soonyoung on his knees, mouth wrapping around Jihoon’s cock. 

It’s awfully quiet until the prosecutor brings his hands down and pulls at the roots of the lawyer’s hair, the gasps escaping through the partition of Jihoon’s lips resonating across the room, a ragged mantra of _Soonyoung, Soonyoung, Soonyoung._

(They both slip back to the courtroom in time with Jihoon sated, no longer on edge, and Soonyoung seating himself down among the throng of people at the gallery with reddened lips and saltiness lingering in his mouth. The prosecution wins that afternoon). 

 

 

“I was worried that something bad happened because you were rushing out of the courtroom so quickly,” Chan pours soju into Jihoon’s glass, voice laced with concern. It’s their scheduled monthly workplace dinner and drink where all the lawyers and prosecutors from the building have their get-together at a nearby roadside orange tented stall. 

Jihoon shoots a menacing look at Soonyoung who’s currently snickering at the other side of the table, before diverting his attention back to the younger. “Nothing happened. Anyway, I hope today’s opportunity was a valuable lesson to you.” Which is totally a lie because today’s embarrassing performance should never be mentioned in Jihoon’s lifetime. 

“It definitely was,” confirms the younger, although his empty notepad says otherwise. He takes a sip of his own soju, facing away from his senior. 

By the time the only people left in the stall are at their table and the owner is collecting the empty bottles and dishes, they say their goodbyes and part in different directions. 

“I hope you’ll act a bit more professionally, Lawyer Kwon,” Jihoon states with thinly-veiled disgust once he’s out on the main street. Carefully pushing Wonwoo into a taxi with the lawyer, he closes the door and watches the vehicle zoom away. 

“And I was hoping that you’ll be less formal with me,” says Soonyoung. “I’ve kind of missed you calling me by my name.”

“But we’re not close so why would I?”

‘Oh we were very close today,” Soonyoung muses, “your dick was literally in my mouth.” 

Jihoon clears his throat and is beyond thankful that the dim lighting on the streets doesn’t show his flushing face clearly. “I would really appreciate it if we don’t mix work with pleasure so I’m asking you to keep this private.” 

“You’re talking like we’re going to do this again.” 

“Sure,” the younger says with a casual shrug of the shoulders. “We both get what we want with no feelings intervening in between. It’s a win-win situation for the both of us because there’s no emotional baggage.”

The night breeze doesn’t seem like it will cool down the heat on Jihoon’s face when he realises what he had just said. He can’t blame it on the alcohol either, he barely touched his drink tonight. Turning around, he makes his way to his car at the end of the street in hurried strides due to the arbitrary decision blurted out of nowhere, until he hears Soonyoung call out his name. 

“Where are you going?” the lawyer inquires. 

“My car is parked over there.”

“And my apartment is this way,” Soonyoung states, pointing at the opposite direction. 

Jihoon crosses his arms and bites his lip. “And?” 

He doesn’t need any further explanation when Soonyoung’s lips curl up to a cunning smirk. 

 

 

Jihoon wakes up to sunlight seeping through curtains and bare skin resting on soft sheets. Blinking a few times, he allows himself to take time to readjust his vision. It’s not his bed. A sense of uneasiness starts to rise up in his body until Soonyoung stirs in his sleep and Jihoon heaves a sigh of relief. When Jihoon catches the sight of tousled hair and collarbones peeking through the top of the duvet, he takes this as a cue to get up. 

Pulling up his boxers and then pants after hastily buttoning up his shirt, Jihoon gathers the rest of his belongings strewn across the floor and slips out of the room as quietly as possible. 

He doesn’t look back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates might be even slower (due to CNY preparations) but I’m trying my best to write quickly and like always, thank you so much for reading!


	5. case five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentine's!!

Nothing changes back in the company even though a month has gone by (or really, everything remotely stayed the same—the prosecutor and lawyer are still biting each other’s head off when they cross paths, clashing when it comes to cases even though majority of the disputes between the accused and the victim are settled without going to court nowadays). 

A major case has popped out of nowhere and the prosecutors are finding themselves in a flurry of headaches and panic in the meeting room. It has piqued Jihoon’s interest though. He’s always up for a challenge. 

“Yoo Jaeho, mid-thirties, tangled in a web of homicide, drug and human trafficking,” announces Yejin. “His father is part of the National Assembly, which is most likely the reason why his crime has been covered all this time, thus no news coverage.” She flips to the next slide of the PowerPoint. “The casualties are expected to rise so the family members of the victims are starting to speak out, seeking legal remedy for something they cannot stop.” 

“Shouldn’t we make sure he doesn’t leave the country first?” Wonwoo adds. 

“We’re working closely with the police so they’re ensuring that he doesn’t. Immigration won’t allow him to pass,” she replies. “Nothing is tracing back to Jaeho so unless we have something solid, we can’t arrest nor put him in detention yet.” 

The meeting is dismissed, and by the time everyone is getting up to leave, Jihoon’s phone buzzes in his pocket. Trailing after the others, Jihoon opens up the message, the animated chatter around him muting down. He makes a shocked noise similarly to the first time he had accidentally stumbled across porn on his cousin’s computer in middle school. (But then again, it was pretty suspicious that his eighteen-year-old cousin had a file named _Pororo_ ).

The picture shows Soonyoung’s smiling into the camera, the lighting casting a soft glow on his body. But it doesn’t end there. It’s not just some typical high-angled selfie because the lawyer’s entire body is captured, the other hand not holding the phone is gripping around the head of his cock, and Jihoon just wants to become one with the ground as of now, blood gushing towards his face. Jihoon pockets his phone, too risky viewing this when all the other prosecutors are congregated by the door. There are no legitimate excuses as to why he has a picture of Kwon Soonyoung, naked. 

He calls Soonyoung when he reaches his own office, snapping when the lawyer tells the prosecutor that this is sounding like a clandestine booty call. 

The lawyer arrives a few minutes later. “Didn’t know you were into office sex.” 

“What the fuck, no,” Jihoon refutes, shoving his phone in front of Soonyoung’s face. “Explain this.” 

“It’s a picture of me in bed and I look pretty good.”

“I was in a meeting. What if my colleagues saw?” 

“At least it wasn’t an unsolicited dick pic,” comments Soonyoung, a bit too casually. “So whiny. You could’ve viewed the photo privately.” 

“That doesn’t make the situation any better. I can still _see_ it.” Jihoon wants to continue yelling but Soonyoung is saved by the ringtone of an incoming call on the prosecutor’s phone. “Hey Wonwoo,” answers Jihoon, furrowing his eyebrows, “right now? Okay.” 

“Going somewhere?” 

“I have to head to the police station now so you need to get lost,” Jihoon says, ushering the lawyer out of his office. 

“Rude,” retorts Soonyoung. “Then you’re buying me dinner tonight—” 

There’s no time to argue over nudes when one of the gang members who supposedly works in close liaison with the politician has just been caught by authorities. They can probably get a confession or at least some information during interrogation. Jihoon cuts him off without digesting what Soonyoung said and mutters, “yeah, sure, whatever.” 

 

 

This is definitely not a date, Jihoon decides. It’s normal to eat with people even if you loath their guts and want to destroy them. Totally normal.

“I’m busy for the next three weeks or so, so don’t you dare ask me to treat you to dinner again,” Jihoon tells him when they’ve both seated down in the open tented stall down the road from the office. “Don’t even think about sending photos too.” Soonyoung actually had the courtesy to wait for him at the front like a proper gentleman, the first two buttons of his shirt popped open and tie loosened around his neck. Jihoon doesn’t know what to feel about this but then again, it’s probably because he somehow agreed with the lawyer to pay for his dinner in the middle of rushing to another destination earlier on the day. 

“Sure,” Soonyoung says, the tips of his lips curling. “I mean, who would want to die at the hands of _the Prosecutor from Hell?”_

“Excuse me?” The lawyer’s playing with him, not taking this seriously. 

“Don’t you know everyone calls you that behind your back? Honestly, I think Seungkwan’s a genius for coming up with the title.”

“Boo Seungkwan? The public defender from Jeju-do who went to court for the first time a few days ago?” Jihoon grits his teeth.

“Relax. He’s just worked up because he’s new and lost his first case to a ruthless prosecutor. But props to him for standing up for himself. He’s hell-bent on taking you down. Now it’s not just you against me, it’s two against one.”

“So immature,” Jihoon huffs. Rookie lawyers don’t last long in the legal industry. Bringing evidence to court—circumstantial or factual—doesn’t let the truth reveal itself. It’s a matter of intelligence. The survival of the fittest. What wins at court is ultimately the truth. 

“It’s my job to make your life as miserable as possible,” Soonyoung claims, smiling. “Ah, now that we’re talking about work, who’s in charge of prosecuting the politician’s son?”

“Me.” Jihoon pauses briefly, gathering his thoughts, trying to structure it into a coherent sentence because there’s a large chance that Soonyoung’s on defence. Normally, he would be glad to humiliate the lawyer in the courtroom but now that they’re involved in this intimate business with each other, probably not so much. Soonyoung’s probably going to give him bedroom eyes from the opposite side during the entire trial. “Are you defending him?”

“No. My senior’s taking up this case. I just heard bits of it from her this morning.” 

“Then are you luring me into your trap at this very moment to sabotage me?”

“Come on, I’m not that evil,” defends Soonyoung. “When are you meeting with the accused?”

“We don’t have an arrest warrant at the moment because we still need solid evidence. I also don’t know what Congressman Yoo’s plans are since he’s involved too so this will take a while because of the upcoming elections.”

“I assume his son is Yoo Jaeho? As in the guy that was plastered all over the news for the two scandals that occurred over a short span of a three days a month ago?” 

“Yeah, the one who dated the female actress fifteen years his junior, which coincidentally, is also the one who got caught banging some guy in the bathroom of a club at Hongdae a few days later,” replies Jihoon. He blurts out a few seconds later, “he seems like a trophy fuck. You know, rich and hot. Good in bed, considering all his wild endeavours. Maybe I’ll get a taste when I meet up with him.” 

“This is why prosecutors have such a bad reputation amongst the general public,” Soonyoung scoffs. The lawyer turns around and asks the store owner for some more tteokbokki, less sauce. Handling spicy food was never his forte.

“We’re just very conniving people,” Jihoon says. “And stop ordering more food, this isn’t an all-you-can-eat buffet. All the food you’re consuming comes from my salary.”

“I’ll pay you back,” states Soonyoung, chugging down his glass of soju. He’s going to erase the doubt written all over Jihoon’s face. With his body. Most probably. “I’ll definitely pay you back.” 

 

 

The lawyer does. Kind of. Albeit shamelessly like horny teenagers who just want to fuck around senselessly. 

Jihoon has to physically push Soonyoung away to key in his passcode with fumbling fingers in front of his apartment. But as expected Soonyoung murmurs something and comes back the second after, attacking his neck with kisses when the prosecutor pushes the door open. He smells of cheap booze (which, in conjunction with the food, racked up a pretty high sum for dinner for two. Not that Jihoon’s frugal or anything). 

Their lips meet, panting heavily in between kisses because there’s not enough air but both of them don’t want to part. After Jihoon successfully kicks his shoes off, both of the men still sober enough, he pats the wall for the light switch but there’s a rustling sound of fabric, immediately drawing his attention back to Soonyoung in the dark, slipping his blazer and shirt off, before pulling Jihoon towards him again, liking the way that Jihoon whimpers into the kiss, hands roaming across his back. 

“Soonyoung,” Jihoon breaths out. “Fuck, Soonyoung, are you seriously sleeping with me for free food?” he says his name again when the older searches for his lips frantically like the first time in the printer room as if the world’s going to end, tongue tracing raw lips, one hand cupping Jihoon’s face and the other at the scruff of the younger’s neck. And Jihoon thinks if they don’t stop now, he’ll lose his footing when they’re tottering towards his bedroom in hurried steps with the lights still turned off, hips bumping table edges, drowning in each other’s warmth and hands clawing for skin, pressing themselves closer. 

“Tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you,” Soonyoung insists, voice breathy and low. Jihoon obliges without second thought when they teeter into the bedroom, waltzing messily. He plops himself onto his bed, spreading his legs, letting Soonyoung clamber on top of him. Soonyoung flicks open the buttons of Jihoon’s pants and doesn’t even bother taking off Jihoon’s shirt first, fingers ghosting over the zip. And then he stops. “Condoms?” 

“What?” Jihoon hates the way Soonyoung stares at him so intently and hates how the way the lawyer makes him feel vulnerable like he’s letting his guard down, yielding and not putting up a proper fight. “Right. Condoms.” 

Soonyoung’s body heat leaves him when the older sits back up, allowing Jihoon to get off from the bed. Soonyoung has a smug grin on his face when Jihoon scrambles out of the room. 

Jihoon flicks on the light when he steps into the bathroom, and he wants Soonyoung to feel the prosecutor’s wrath not because of the blinding white lights but because of the red marks on his neck when Jihoon stares at his reflection on the mirror. His hair is tousled like he had walked through a terrible storm and torrential rain, lips swollen red. It’s fixable but there’s no way he’ll be able to conceal the hickies for work tomorrow. 

He doesn’t have time to loiter in here aimlessly so he opens the cabinet, eyes scanning through all the junk shoved inside. He finds the small bottle first, tucked away somewhere at the end and closes the door. He grunts and opens the cabinet again, digging around for condoms for the very last time but the efforts are futile, pausing when he recalls that the last time he got laid was in his senior’s dorm room during university finals in his second year, the cheap mattress squeaking underneath the two and the headboard chafing Jihoon’s head. (The relationship didn’t even last a year because sex was the only thing holding them together, but at least the criminal law notes were helpful). 

Jihoon trudges back to his bedroom with only a bottle of lube in his hands, the disappointment evident on his face. “I don’t have any condoms.” Jihoon contemplates on aiming the bottle directly at the lawyer’s face but they both want it now so he doesn’t, throwing it towards his hands instead. 

“I’m actually not that surprised,” Soonyoung states with amusement, catching it with one hand. “There’s hardly any left in the bottle. Isn’t that a clear indication that you enjoy sticking your fingers up your ass occasionally instead of actually getting laid?” 

“At least I don’t record myself,” Jihoon hisses. That’s it. If Soonyoung’s going to provoke him like this, he’ll do it right back. “I bet you jacked off every time we chatted on the dating app.”

But before the lawyer can deny it, the prosecutor pushes him down onto the bed, legs locking Soonyoung’s hips in place, Jihoon’s hands gripping onto his shoulders and lips crashing onto Soonyoung’s. There’s an unceasing desperation to show the lawyer that whenever Soonyoung thinks he’s winning this game they’re playing, Jihoon will always be one step ahead, maintaining power and in control, although sporadic. He’s not going to submit so easily. Not tonight. 

“How many times did I make you come just by sending you dirty texts?” asks Jihoon, drawing back on purpose to watch Soonyoung chase after his lips. 

It’s maddening, really, Soonyoung’s holding himself together without quivering or begging. But Jihoon’s not fucking him tonight, so he might as well take it slow, tease him a bit until he’s writhing with dilated pupils and patches of purple and blue marring soft skin. 

“Five—” Soonyoung gasps, “—separate occasions.” The younger kisses him again, hands gliding to his biceps, parting Soonyoung’s lips with his tongue, slipping it in and running it over the roof of the lawyer’s mouth. 

“Only five?” Jihoon mumbles, making his way to Soonyoung’s neck, planting a line of quick kisses down until he reaches the junction between the neck and shoulder, latching on with teeth, biting down and sucking the now abused skin. 

Now that he’s pinning Soonyoung down for the first time, Jihoon realises how good Soonyoung looks beneath him, how fucking good Soonyoung looks with the skyline of Seoul at night illuminating his bare torso from the window, waiting for Jihoon to touch him all over, sucking bruises, leaving marks and blabbering incoherencies. 

The idea of peeling the lawyer’s clothes off one by one is appealing but Soonyoung already discarded his blazer and button-down at the entrance of Jihoon’s apartment from earlier. The only remainder of the grey pinstripe ensemble on Soonyoung’s body are the pants but they can work with that. (And besides, Jihoon will never admit it out loud that he loves the way it sinfully clings onto the lawyer’s thighs and how the way the pants gradually tapers towards the ends at the ankles). 

When Jihoon grazes Soonyoung’s nipple with the pad of his thumb, a moan escapes from Soonyoung’s lips and the prosecutor smirks at how the older clamps his hand over his mouth immediately right after, as if it will prevent Jihoon from witnessing him slowly lose control. 

So Jihoon does it again and again and again. He does it with his tongue next, lapping at it until Soonyoung arches his hips up as Jihoon runs his hands over the smooth contour of Soonyoung’s body at the very same time, splayed fingers stopping at the jut of the hip bones. 

“Behave,” commands Jihoon, patting Soonyoung’s thigh. 

The lawyer doesn’t listen and continues to grind Jihoon, his cock straining in his pants rutting against the prosecutor’s stomach, seeking friction while Jihoon resumes to trace the expanse of his skin in such a slow pace that makes Soonyoung go mad, fingers caressing the smoothness in feathery strokes, making the older crave for more and more and more. But Soonyoung can’t give in, not yet, even though the noises reverberating in the room are the lewd moans slipping out of his own mouth, head clouding with haze, curling his toes when Jihoon promptly shuffles down, leaving a heated trail of kisses wet and hot and slow with a hint of teeth from his chest down to his half-hard dick, pants still on. 

“You’re staring,” the prosecutor states when he lifts his head up, Soonyoung uncomfortably craning his neck to get a glimpse of Jihoon. 

“Because your face pisses me off.” Or really, _I don’t like you but I also want to see your cheeks hollowing when you suck me off,_ but Soonyoung keeps it to himself. 

“Likewise.” Tugging Soonyoung’s pants down to his calves, Jihoon’s slender fingers slides up to grasp onto the waistband of Soonyoung’s boxers, ready to pull them down, only to be interrupted by the older. 

“I was thinking, if we actually went on the date as Hoshi and Woozi, we wouldn’t be doing this right now. I’ll probably be too shocked to the point where I’ll be suffering from erectile dysfunction for the rest of my life or something.” 

Jihoon makes a face and groans, “that was unnecessary. You just killed the mood.” 

It turns out that post-coital cuddling was never on the menu even if they didn’t really do anything when Soonyoung exits the bedroom. Jihoon doesn’t verbally tell him to get out and scram, but Soonyoung knows judging by the disinterested expression on the younger’s face. 

“What are you still doing here?” Jihoon asks, opening a can of beer from the fridge. He says it in a similar way he does in court as Prosecutor Lee, with undertones of hostility, almost condescending, _almost._ He takes a sip of the alcohol, cooling down the heat, while Soonyoung picks up his clothes from the floor. Jihoon’s tempted to point out Soonyoung’s hastily fixed messy hair and buttons down wrongly on his shirt but doesn’t because it’s not his business in the first place.

“I was just about to leave.” There’s no hard feelings really, whatever they agreed on doing—casual sex or alternatively, occasional fuck buddies (enemies, actually)—so Soonyoung shouldn’t expect too much from Jihoon because they aren’t exclusive and they don’t belong to each other. No intimacy. No nothing. 

And with that, he steps out the warm abode of Jihoon’s home feeling emptier than before, the door clicking shut behind him. 

 

 

Obviously Jihoon isn’t going to sleep with Congressman Yoo’s son because even though Jihoon doesn’t belong to Soonyoung and Soonyoung doesn’t belong to him, they’ve made it clear that they’re free to do whatever with their bodies. But Jihoon’s not that desperate to get laid. 

When the accused said to have a talk over steak and wine, Jihoon’s instincts are telling him to reassign the case to someone else when he’s escorted to a private room with a suspect, akin to sirens blaring nonstop, alerting the danger ahead of him. 

“How do you like your steak?”

“Let’s just get to the point,” demands Jihoon, taking a piece of paper from his briefcase. He hasn’t told anyone that he secretly visited Kim Mingyu who works in IT on the way to here. “I believe this confidential document is yours?”

“You’re pretty good, Prosecutor Lee. You managed to find out about my slush funds,” Jaeho says. “I don’t know how you infiltrated my private files but if you pretend that you didn’t see the records and not prosecute me, I’ll give a portion of the funds to you.”

“But I’m currently not in a monetary dilemma. I don’t need your dirty money.” Jihoon shifts his gaze to his glass when Jaeho decants red liquid into it. The congressman’s son has been eyeing up him hungrily from the moment he walked in. “Look, we can do this the easy way or the hard way. All the evidence from this sheet of paper is pointing back at you so it’s useless going to court. We should settle it here so you can avoid a life sentence.” 

“How does relocating to the Supreme Prosecutor’s Office sound? I have connections to raise your ranks. Besides, isn’t it an inconvenience to share a shoddy looking building with lawyers and other smaller businesses?” 

_“Mr Yoo,”_ the prosecutor hisses through his teeth. 

Jaeho presses on, “I heard you’re a bachelor, right? If dinner is making you uncomfortable, shall we discuss this problem further at my private villa? Or do you prefer a hotel suite?”

“I’ll be taking my leave,” Jihoon announces, traces of irritation in his words. 

There’s no point staying here if the man’s not going to cooperate, Jihoon thinks when he stands up. Jaeho’s attempts at seducing him with bribery and unnecessary amounts of lip biting is kind of pathetic to watch, almost laughable if Jihoon’s being honest, because let’s be real, Kwon Soonyoung can do a better job at that. 

 

 

The door finally opens when Jihoon’s about to jab the doorbell again. His stomach grumbles. 

“I’m hungry,” the prosecutor declares.

“While the idea of you eating food off my body is oddly turning me on, I really don’t have time for it tonight. I’m swamped with work at the moment,” replies Soonyoung, muffling a yawn. 

“I’m actually hungry. You know, starving.” Maybe Jihoon should’ve left after eating the steak, _not_ before. 

Soonyoung invites him in anyway. Jihoon toes his shoes off and trudges to the dinner table while the lawyer reheats food. “I thought you were on a date with Yoo Jaeho?” 

“It seems like he just wanted to get into my pants instead of confessing or agreeing with a deal,” complains Jihoon. 

Soonyoung cackles. “Turns out Lee Jihoon isn’t an easy man after all. I thought you would let him in, but I guess not.” 

Jihoon sends a glare. He’s starving and lightheaded so his priority is the bowl of soup set in front of him. He’ll save this argument for another time. “I would also like to reiterate that, apart from Seokmin from the Criminal Investigation Bureau, the police are useless.” 

“That’s because you don’t cooperate with others.” 

“Prosecutors have the right to lead criminal investigations. We command and it is expected that they obey.” 

“Do you see everything as a dichotomy?”

“Yes. That’s just how the world works; some are better than others and some should just be looked with contempt.” Jihoon adds, “your soup is so bland by the way, even plain rice would taste ten times better.” 

“If you don’t like it, then give it back to me. It’s supposed to be my breakfast for tomorrow morning,” Soonyoung groans. “Besides, isn’t it only normal for the police to not have any information since you’ve just conducted the investigation today?” 

“It shouldn’t take hours for them to force a confession out of one guy. Jaeho’s rich but he’s greedy for more money. He’s exploiting people for easy cash but at the same time he’s instructing the men under him with a promise of a hefty sum of cash to get rid of victims who are threatening to tell the police about his wrongdoings,” replies Jihoon. “Mingyu found the slush fund archived somewhere on Jaeho’s computer which shows all the list of people involved in this dirty crime—including all the gang members and leaders. See? Even some mere IT guy can give me the evidence we need to be able to file an arrest warrant.” 

“Through hacking,” Soonyoung corrects. 

“Then what am I supposed to do?” Jihoon questions, raising his voice. Soonyoung just can’t help but argue with him about everything. 

“Ask the family members of the victims to write a statement?”

“That would be hearsay. It’s inadmissible.” 

“At least it’s not illegal.”

“Are you seriously gonna lecture me on legal ethics?” questions Jihoon. “I get the job done. Even if the measures I have to take are not as…legal.” 

“I don’t think you quite get it yet. By doing this, you’re putting Mingyu’s life on the line and I assume this is not the first time. His entire career is at risk for all the shit you put him through,” sighs Soonyoung. The tapping sounds on the keyboard comes to a halt. “There’s always two sides of a story. Although the crimes are not inexcusable, Yoo Jaeho is not guilty until proven otherwise through _legal_ means. So don’t bring up the slush fund.” 

“You lawyers are always trusting the defendants so blindly. There’s no time for compassion, Soonyoung. One day you’re going to realise that nothing good comes out of having a positive mind-set in this industry.” 

“Can I ask you a question?” Soonyoung inquires. It’s redundant because he continues, “why did you become a prosecutor?”

Jihoon finishes the soup and wipes his mouth. “Power and control, I guess.” 

It’s suddenly silent, the atmosphere tense. Soonyoung resumes his work as if Jihoon isn’t there, unacknowledged.

“Soonyoung?”

“I heard, you don’t have to say it again,” the lawyer snaps. 

Usually Jihoon isn’t the one to be concerned about emotions other than his own, but something stirs in his stomach and it’s not self-satisfaction for having the upper hand in the argument. When he glances at Soonyoung—he’s mad and fatigued but the tone of his voice is soft. Surrendering. 

As if he’s giving up on quarrelling, giving up on Jihoon.


	6. case six

Soonyoung cares. Maybe not immensely, but definitely a smidge. He admits that he fits into the mould and stereotype of the righteous lawyer—the one who’s married to the law, an advocate for justice, for people—and it annoys Jihoon the most.   

Engaging in whatever they agreed to from the start has taken a toll on the both of them. It’s detrimental, but Soonyoung can’t help but stay, even if majority of the time Jihoon’s the one initiating their encounter, only crawling back to Soonyoung when he’s lonely or stressed. He’s mad at Jihoon, to put it shortly. He’s mad at Jihoon because the prosecutor can do so much better.

But he’s not Jihoon’s significant other (and Soonyoung’s not even close to a friend), so unless the prosecutor’s going to ask whatever is bottling up inside of the lawyer, Soonyoung’s not going to mention it any further.

“Took you long enough.”

“It’s not even eight in the morning yet, what do you want?” Soonyoung grumbles, closing the door. Jihoon’s currently perched on the table, the AC on full blast in the empty meeting room. What a way to abuse employee privileges. “If you’re here to argue with me you should at least apologise first.”  
  
“I don’t need your forgiveness,” replies Jihoon, waving a plastic bag. It rattles. “I’m here to return this because you left your tie at my place.”

Raising an eyebrow, Soonyoung takes it from the younger and peers inside. The tie is there, albeit tucked between a box and a small bottle. His jaw drops open and Jihoon cackles. “Are you serious? You want to do it right now?”

“I never mentioned anything,” shrugs the prosecutor. “But if you insist.”

“Look, I don’t have enough time to cave in to satisfy your spontaneous urges and a fluctuating libido,” huffs Soonyoung. “I’m a busy person but all you do is think about yourself first and do whatever you want. Come back tonight if you’re so desperate for a good fuck.”

“So mean,” Jihoon coos, patting the lawyer’s cheek. He plops himself off the table and rests his hands on Soonyoung’s waist, and whispers, “how unfortunate, I even stretched myself this morning in the shower.”

“Did you plan this?” says Soonyoung with disbelief. Pushing the blame back to Jihoon is probably not a logical way to handle situations but at this moment of time, he’s a grown man who can control himself unlike an adolescent going through a terrible phase of puberty. _I’m a grown man,_ he tells himself repeatedly in his head. A grown man who will carry on his day as normal in an office instead of imagining Jihoon standing in the shower, body wet and working a finger into himself, throwing his head back in pleasure and mouth parting open.

“Fuck, Soonyoung, are you hard already?”

Diverting his attention down to his crotch, Soonyoung freezes.

“I was only joking before but I can’t believe you’re turned on. You’re worse than me,” the prosecutor comments. “Should I put on a show for you?” 

The thing is, this is absolutely unprofessional and Jihoon knows better to keep whatever they’re doing behind closed doors and not in an office. But the tension permeating in the air and the glare directed at him from Soonyoung clatters all rational thoughts in his brain.

“Shut up, you talk too much,” the lawyer mutters, dumping the bag onto the table.

Smirking, Jihoon says, “make me.”  

In all honesty, Jihoon expects the lawyer to go on a rampage verbally but he doesn’t. Instead, Soonyoung crashes his lips onto Jihoon’s and it’s all too sudden, too much tongue and no time to breathe. But Jihoon doesn’t complain because Soonyoung’s good at this, one hand making its way to the prosecutor’s belt and the other cupping Jihoon’s ass.

After successfully getting rid of the belt, Soonyoung instructs, “turn around.” Jihoon complies without hesitation, turning around as demanded, unzipping his pants and letting it pool around his ankles while Soonyoung does the same.

Unscrewing the cap of the bottle, Soonyoung slathers a generous amount of lube all over his fingers before prodding a teasing finger at Jihoon’s entrance.

“Hurry up,” Jihoon whines. But before he can plead anymore, Soonyoung slides a finger in and Jihoon watches his own fists turn white when he grips tightly onto the edge of the table.  

“Fuck,” Soonyoung hisses when he feels Jihoon’s hole clench around his finger. He pushes a second finger in because although Jihoon hasn’t adjusted to it yet, he knows the prosecutor likes the thrill of it. He continues to fuck Jihoon, brushing against the prostate, pushing the younger even further and it feels so fucking good.

“Soonyoung,” Jihoon pants, feeling the jolt across his body. He slumps onto the desk, skin on fire, aching for more. He feels Soonyoung pull out, opening a box and ripping open a foil wrapper.

They haven’t done this in a while so when the lawyer rolls on the condom and eases his way in and starts thrusting, the prosecutor’s face pressing harshly onto the cold surface of the table, Jihoon moans so loudly that Soonyoung has to remind him to be quiet.

(Jihoon doesn’t even notice Soonyoung sneaking up a hand onto his, holding him as if he’s telling Jihoon that maybe everything’s going to be all right).

 

 

 

Soonyoung’s at a loss of words when he opens the door to a rather casual Jihoon, dressed in a shirt and sweatpants instead of the usual work attire. “What are you doing here?”

Jihoon shrugs. “Someone said I was a selfish prick for always doing whatever I want. Now I’m here, making time for you.”

“Okay,” Soonyoung says, unconvinced.

They stay like this, words no longer exchanged and gazes lingering until Jihoon finally speaks up, playfully, “so are you just going to stand there or will you invite me in and take my clothes off?”

“God, you’re always so horny.”

Jihoon rolls his eyes and enters anyway. “Do you want to bet who’s worse?”

When they settle themselves on the couch, the TV screening late night drama reruns, the both of them continue to stay silent. They’re skirting around the issue, not cutting to the chase, and it’s inefficient.

“Soonyoung,” Jihoon states, taking a sharp intake of breath, body tensing up. It’s increasingly difficult to fixate his attention onto the TV screen as seconds pass, Soonyoung’s hand sneaking onto Jihoon’s thigh. “Talk to me.”

The next thing Jihoon knows is that he’s trying to hold himself together, trying to dismiss the indescribable sensation coiling in his stomach when the lawyer slides his hands up, palming the prosecutor’s crotch.

Soonyoung’s expression is undecipherable, gentle yet vague, as if he’s keeping something hidden away from Jihoon on purpose. Jihoon’s not too sure when he started behaving like this, letting guilt wash him whole when the lawyer voices out his disappoint at the prosecutor’s work ethic. Jihoon doesn’t know why he’s constantly thinking about Soonyoung lately, taking the lawyer’s opinions into consideration, wanting to be better somehow even though Lee Jihoon overflows with confidence, doing things his own way. Even if Soonyoung left him staggering back to the office alone in the morning, and even if Jihoon specifically noted not to let emotions get the best of him, a part of him wants to be more than people who just casually fuck for fun.

“Fuck,” Jihoon says with ragged breaths when Soonyoung stops. “If you’re going to be like this, at least do it properly.” Because there’s no way he’ll be stuck in traffic on the way home, dick hard and leaking precome, a soiled patch at the centre of his pants.

“You’re always so demanding,” replies Soonyoung, irritated. “But I’ll—”

“—and you’re still mad at me, aren’t you?” Jihoon cuts him off with a scoff. He really doesn’t have to patience to lounge around any further and although the thought of jerking off in front of your colleague is probably the last thing any employee has in their mind, the prosecutor hooks his fingers onto the waistband of his pants and boxers, sliding them past his thighs.  

“Yeah, I am,” Soonyoung trails off at the sight of Jihoon tugging his own cock in languid strokes.

“G-good,” Jihoon breaths out, tone shaky.

Gulping, Soonyoung’s glance flits from Jihoon’s dick to his eyes and says, “I’ll do it.”

“What?”

“I said I’ll do it,” the lawyer reaffirms, swatting the younger’s hands away.

The prosecutor has to close his eyes as he throws his head back onto the softness of the couch, feeling the lawyer curl his hand around Jihoon’s cock. Jihoon’s ashamed at how easy he yields to Soonyoung, ashamed at how the older makes Jihoon act this way with just a few words, first rousing the lawyer but then submitting so quickly under Soonyoung’s words and touch, obedient and falling silent. He hates how he had spent years building up an iron wall around him, but the lawyer breaks it with one simple touch.

Jihoon loses it when Soonyoung’s hand starts moving up and down, the strokes making the prosecutor’s heart palpitate even more, thighs quivering and hips arching up.

“You like this, don’t you?” Soonyoung questions, leaning in. Jihoon doesn’t form a coherent answer and instead whimpers back, opening his eyes when Soonyoung stops his motions on purpose.

Something is different. No, something is changing since the last time Jihoon visited the lawyer’s apartment. Jihoon seems more obedient under Soonyoung’s command, bickering less out of his own will. He doesn’t try as hard when putting up a fight.

“I’m close,” Jihoon moans when Soonyoung grazes the slit of the prosecutor’s cock with his thumb. His body arches up again on reflex, fucking into Soonyoung’s fist. When the lawyer goes back to stroking his length, cock thick and hard in his hands, the pace quickening, Jihoon gasps, “Soonyoung, please.”

Jihoon comes in streaks of white after the older strokes him to completion, spilling all over Soonyoung’s hand.

“Clean up before you go.”

“That’s it?” questions Jihoon, out of breath. He doesn’t move just yet, head a bit dizzy. “You’re kicking me out after one lousy hand job?”

Soonyoung sighs and heads to the kitchen to wash his hands.  

“Okay, I get it. You’re angry at me for not acting like a proper prosecutor who blindly abides rules like a student who follows everything by the textbook. But are you any better? You’re so quick to point out everything I’m doing wrong but you’re keeping quiet about everything else.”

He turns the tap off.

“I can’t read your mind, Soonyoung. And it doesn’t help that you’re giving me mixed signals,” states Jihoon. Some infomercial is playing on the TV and the upbeat background music isn’t very fitting at the moment, so Jihoon pulls his pants up and shuffles to the coffee table and reaches for the tissue box. “So please, just talk to me.”   

 

 

 

Jihoon doesn’t know how he got to this point where he’ll let Soonyoung wreck him, leaving the prosecutor feeling emptier than before, a void that cannot be filled.

He’ll chastise himself later but he doesn’t. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t feel like he has the right to demand things from Soonyoung. He stops counting how many times he had panted heavily in his own car, white stickiness between his thighs, or laying on his bed, tangled in messy sheets, the bites left by Soonyoung all over Jihoon’s body still fresh and stinging.

Because nights like this, Jihoon wraps his arms around Soonyoung, the younger’s nails digging onto the lawyer’s back and leaving red indents with every thrust, pressing their bodies closer because while they’re intimate, Jihoon doesn’t feel any traces of intimacy.

Jihoon’s gradually becoming used to Soonyoung’s body weight on his, the musky scent lingering, a thin sheen of sweat on his body, and the older shutting the door after without uttering a word. He can’t stay and press soft kisses onto Soonyoung’s bruised skin.

The only evidence needed to lock Yoo Jaeho in jail is sitting right before Jihoon’s eyes, laid out on his desk. He ponders for a moment whether to submit it or shred it to pieces, but everything draws him back to Soonyoung. Soonyoung’s disapproval. Soonyoung’s opinions making Jihoon second-guess himself. It’s not necessarily guilt making him lose confidence in his own abilities in court, it’s the questions raised whether he’s a _real_ prosecutor, if he’s truly deserving of that title. If he’s doing anything right.

“Prosecutor Lee, you should drink the coffee before it gets cold.”

Jihoon looks up to a rather concerned Chan, and crumbles the sheet of paper. He doesn’t wear his heart on his sleeve but the intern seems to notice the prosecutor’s distress, as if it’s written all over his face in bright, bold letters for everyone to see. Grabbing the mug, Jihoon takes a sip, makes a face and sets it back down with a loud thud. It’s lukewarm. Nothing is going right.

“This particular case is not easy. It’s strenuous and it will take several months due to the lack of evidence,” states Chan. “So don’t force yourself to do everything alone. It’s okay to seek help because sometimes that’s all you need.”

If Jihoon wasn’t stressed about Kwon Soonyoung (and not Yoo Jaeho’s case, funnily), he’d probably scold the younger for saying too much. But Chan has a point.

“Yeah, I think I’ll do that.”

 

 

 

The timing is so, so, _so_ wrong.

“So you want to talk or pretend that everything is okay?” Jihoon asks.  
  
“Everything _is_ okay,” Soonyoung answers, but he’s poking the soondae with his chopsticks, not making eye contact.  
  
Jihoon pours himself another shot of soju and downs it in one go. “So no talk,” the prosecutor deadpans, emitting a half-hearted chuckle shortly after.  

“Is there a problem?” the lawyer asks, annoyed.

“Yeah, there is. You’re a good person. A good lawyer. You’re good to everyone. But when it comes to relationships, you keep everything to yourself and I can only do so much about it,” Jihoon declares. Soonyoung’s expression doesn’t soften. “It’s just that I’m starting to like you and I don’t know why but I just do. If you don’t want to do this anymore just tell me so I can get over it. Get over us.” ( _Get over you,_ is what he’s meaning to say).  

“What are you trying to insinuate? That I’m a shitty boyfriend? That you’re unhappy because I’ve stopped paying attention to you? You wanted this from the beginning, Jihoon. We’re not in any sort of relationship,” Soonyoung says, heaving a sigh. “So don’t you dare say you like me so easily. It makes it hard for me to tell you that I think I like you too, because all you do is prioritise yourself over others.”

Jihoon doesn’t say anything just yet, but he’s itching to reply and formulate a string of words into a proper sentence because Kwon Soonyoung likes him back. That alone makes him want to keel over but now’s not the right time. It’s never the right time.

“I don’t know what to say,” Jihoon admits, ashamed, because he’s known for handling any type of situations thrown at his direction but as of now, he can’t.

“Why don’t we just stop this?”

“Sure,” replies the younger.

The two of them get up, Soonyoung falling in step with Jihoon as they exit the stall, walking towards the main road.

“I guess this is it,” Jihoon mumbles as he reaches for the keys in his pocket. They’re both blowing a trivial situation out of proportion, getting hung up on a relationship that never was.

“Wait,” Soonyoung calls out, hopping into the passenger seat right before Jihoon locks his car.

“Yeah?”

“I want to stay for one last time.”

In hindsight, Soonyoung wouldn’t end up at this particular point with Jihoon if he actually took the effort to communicate and work out their differences. There’s no going back when emotions start to arise in a relationship that is purely physical. And he knows there’s a mutual liking and even though feelings are reciprocated, now is not the right time to act on their feelings because of their stark differences.

“Why? The person I fell in love with doesn’t want to cross paths with me ever again.” It’s beyond hypocritical to think like this because Jihoon is the first to fall but he doesn’t know Kwon Soonyoung at all. All Jihoon knows is that he has memorized the contours of his body, his soft hands when Soonyoung intertwines them together when they fuck and how Soonyoung likes to slide his hands between Jihoon’s thighs, watching the prosecutor lose control, unravel.

“Let’s end it tonight, Jihoon.”

It’s basically like a terrible breakup, dissolving an attachment before it gets even messier. There’s so much more to it beneath the surface, and even though cutting ties due to the lack of communication on both sides and the entrenched reluctance to change, no one is really willing to let go.

 

 

 

That night in Jihoon’s apartment, Soonyoung kisses him again and again. The lawyer kisses Jihoon everywhere, his hands, his fingers and his inner thighs. He makes sure the pace is slow and gentle when they discard their clothing, contrary to their usual rushed routines, no chances for purple bruises to bloom on skin.

“Stay,” Jihoon whispers before adding, “I want you to stay.”

“I can’t,” Soonyoung replies, pressing a delicate kiss onto the younger’s lips.

Jihoon can’t tell underneath the dim lighting if Soonyoung’s eyes are glossy or maybe, the tears are just his own.

 

 

 

There’s a rustling sound when Jihoon rolls over in his sleep when Soonyoung’s about to exit the prosecutor’s room just as the sun is about to rise. Soonyoung makes his way quietly back to the bed and sits down, watching the prosecutor in a deep but serene slumber. The hesitation lingers in his body, trapped in a compacted space with no escape, but he tries to dismiss the feeling and instead places his hand down and traces the side of Jihoon’s face gently.

It’s a new feeling and it’s foreign to the tongue because Soonyoung can’t explain what it is, but he tells himself that maybe this might be what love is like at the wrong time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! College just started and it's already kicking my ass lmao
> 
> That being said, I won't be putting this fic on hiatus as I've already written parts of the last two chapters but the updates will just be slower (probably sometime next month?) Please bear with me ㅠㅠ Thanks for reading and if you have any constructive criticism (especially with smut) please feel free to tell me.


	7. case seven

The concept of fear doesn’t apply to Jihoon, giving him the ability to stay calm, if not neutral in any situation, and this dates all the way back to his undergraduate years in Busan in which he had magically balanced his studies while hastily jumping into relationships even he knew it would end badly. Jihoon doesn’t fear getting hurt, and he remembers, remembers so clearly the day Haeri came back to his dorm to return his sweater, eyes puffy and wet, telling him that he was her everything even though she knew that the love was one-sided. He couldn’t feel bad no matter how hard he tried.

This happened with Seungjae too; during their breakup, Jihoon shrugged, announcing that the relationship was only there to help him get into law school. (Jihoon’s heart isn’t stone cold, he had just been thinking about himself the whole time).

However, at the sight of his senior’s piercing eyes, Jihoon’s considering on redefining what fear really is.  

“You’ve been dragging out Yoo Jaeho’s case for too long and I don’t think I have the capability to subside my annoyance to tolerance any longer,” Hyerin states. Her tone is soft like the usual, although with slight traces of disappointment, and judging by the darkness that sits underneath her eyes, she’s just as tired as the rest of the prosecutors. “You told us that you can handle this case alone. If you keep waiting for time to pass instead of finding sufficient evidence to arrest them, both the father and son will walk free. How are you going to take responsibility for it if that happens?”

“Actually I,” Jihoon says, reaching out to hand over a file. His hand hovers mid-air for a while, but then retracts back.

Hyerin doesn’t seem to notice it. “I know you’re busy, but I’m expecting a lot more from you,” she states. “Anyway, don’t you have to go to court?”

“I do. I just came here to tell you that the two will be arrested very soon.”

“Good. I can finally stop making excuses on your behalf to Prosecutor General Park on why we’re not seeing results from the case,” she huffs. “I swear to God, you owe me so many drinks for being scolded on why my juniors aren’t doing work properly.”

“Deal,” the younger guarantees with a wave of a hand, “drinks are on me after the prosecution wins.”

 

 

 

 

“There you are. I’ve brought all the necessary files,” Chan says, patting the box next to him.

“Calm down, I went to get coffee. We still have some time before the trial starts,” replies Jihoon. He’s about to remind Chan to go for coffee-runs the next time he steps foot into the courthouse, but then Jihoon realises that Chan’s an intern and not his personal assistant, so he bites back his words out of goodwill. (Although a PA doesn’t seem like a bad idea, probably).

“Are you ready?” the intern asks, transferring the files from the box to the table. He looks up, already regretting his words because Jihoon’s sudden expression of distaste is reminding him that while they’ve gotten closer over this course of time, Chan’s not in a position to be saying things without considering the consequences. “I mean, of course you’re ready, but Soonyoung hyung’s on defence.”

“Whether Soon—” Jihoon clears his throat, “—whether Lawyer Kwon is on defence or not is not a problem. You have to be complacent about your own skills in court even if the person you’re going against is basically the walking embodiment of rectitude.” It’s odd, almost unsatisfying, to refer to Soonyoung with his title as Jihoon sits at his own designated spot, directly facing the currently empty defence. The sense of distance that comes along with it doesn’t sit well with Jihoon after calling the lawyer by his name all this time, knowing what it feels like to taste Soonyoung on his lips and tongue, knowing what it feels like to shorten the proximity but end up completely apart.

“So you’re asking me to feign confidence when times get tough?”

“Yeah, this career may be lucrative but it’s not easy. Desperate times call for desperate measures. All the mooting programmes, I believe, that you’ve participated in law school can only prepare you to a certain extent in court, especially if you’re dealing with a prominent figure in society who will in most cases receive a rather lenient charge.”

“I see,” Chan replies just as Soonyoung enters into the courtroom. Taking Jihoon’s now empty cup, he trudges towards the gallery, the trial starting soon.

To be truthful, Jihoon isn’t sure if he’s ready to face Soonyoung than the actual case today. But what he knows is that he has to entice the jury by emphasising the defendant’s propensity for violence to the point where they will not question the veracity of his statements. Jihoon’s here to make sure that the defendant who’s highly respected in his community will serve the sentence he deserves. An overt act of aggravated assault should not be condoned just because the defendant has a somewhat powerful title.

When the trial starts, there’s no tension or the urge to revile the defence due to their supposed rivalry. The prosecutor and lawyer meet gazes between statements and questions, and like Soonyoung always does, his glances linger for a second longer and Jihoon has to force himself to look away to stay on track.

It happens almost too quickly—the indicted is found guilty after the jury reaches a unanimous verdict. And before Jihoon knows it, he watches the judge bang his gavel, finalising the outcome, but the prosecutor can’t bring himself to feel victorious because the people in the gallery are shouting in opposition that the convict’s sentence is too long and that the prosecutor didn’t consider the good he did for his community because the lawyer defending on his behalf is inadequate.   

Jihoon directs his attention back to Soonyoung who’s sitting there, soaking up all the vulgarities aimed at him. He doesn’t take it well, judging by the pallor of his face and how it isn’t inscrutable at all, and Jihoon’s heart sinks because he can’t do anything for him.

Uncomfortable would be an understatement in the elevator ride back to the ground floor, especially when the same people who had blamed Soonyoung are there too. They don’t stop, pointing fingers and berating the lawyer, crowding around him, and it makes Jihoon curl his fists in anger for targeting an individual in such a vulnerable position.

Soonyoung’s visibly distressed, so Jihoon shuffles towards the perturbed lawyer at the corner. “Don’t listen to them,” the prosecutor says gently, reaching up to cover Soonyoung’s ears with his hands. Soonyoung doesn’t deserve to be inundated with malicious comments after losing a case he fought so hard for.

They continue to stare into each other’s eyes until they reach the ground floor, Soonyoung pushing Jihoon’s hands away and slumping onto the floor after the mob of people leave.

“Get up. Stop this and face this head on,” the prosecutor demands. But Soonyoung groans, refusing to shift in his spot.

“Just go, Prosecutor Lee. I’m tired.”  

Jihoon crouches down, positioning himself next to Soonyoung, “you need to realise that public reprisals are bound to happen in this industry. People will threaten you and call you terrible names for things that cannot be controlled. Don’t let it get into your head.” He watches the doors close, and sighs. “The day you stop being pathetic and have confidence in yourself is also the day when transient issues like this end.”

“I thought we’ve already come to a conclusion to not get involved anymore.”

“We decided not to sleep with each other,” Jihoon corrects him. “I’m not going to pretend that I don’t know you and flee every time our paths intercept.”

“In what way does that correlate to you trying to dig your nose into everything?”

“You’re a lawyer, you should know better not to assume things,” the younger says. “I’m not a complete asshole—I’m here to support you if you need it.”

“Oh,” Soonyoung replies. “Won’t this be difficult for you?”

“Why? Because I like you?” asks the prosecutor before continuing, “don’t worry, I can get over you. Just give me time.”

“Okay,” replies Soonyoung, but it comes out more of a murmur. He doesn’t get up just yet, not when Jihoon’s there with a reassuring hand on his shoulder. The touch is warm, as if it’s alleviating the situation in gradual steps. “Give me time too. We have so much shit to sort through.”

“Yeah,” the prosecutor says. Brushing the lawyer’s hair out of his eyes, Jihoon smiles, “we do.”

 

 

 

 

“Shit,” mumbles Jihoon. He feels a cold coming through. Autumn seeped into Seoul in a blink of an eye, and he’s pretty sure the sudden weather changes and sleepless nights are the culprits of it.

He doesn’t bother fighting back a yawn; the idea of spending another unsuccessful day in attempting to come to a settlement with the Yoo duo and then waiting for answers in a stuffy interrogation room until the sun peeks through the clouds in the morning renders his motivation to stay awake futile. 

A nap won’t hurt anyone, Jihoon justifies, checking the time on his phone. He rests his head on his arms after shuffling the paperwork on his desk along with his phone, and with eyelids heavy, he falls into a slumber.

(When he wakes up, the sky now a pitch black, there’s a bag of vitamins placed on his desk, and a warm overcoat draped over him. It smells like Soonyoung’s cologne).

 

 

 

 

“I’ve tried negotiating with your son, but we couldn’t settle on a decision because he offered me money and his body,” states Jihoon, shoving his hands into the coat pockets, shifting the recording device. “So I’m hoping that we can decide on something between you and me instead.”

“What makes you think I’ll cooperate with you?” the congressman asks, eyes not leaving the computer screen on his office desk.

“If you don’t, all your dirty work will be broadcasted across the nation in the next few days. Or, if you prefer, I’ll be presenting the slush funds in the courtroom.”

“Is this a threat, Prosecutor Lee?” Congressman Yoo says, raising his voice. “You do know that you have no legal basis whatsoever to do what you want, right?”

“The authority and power I hold as a prosecutor is the legal basis,” Jihoon replies, a forced smile plastered on his face. “I’m not sure if you’re trying to avoid litigation or you’re just inhumane for not repenting for all the murders you’ve been covering up for your son. Your unflagging determination to dodge this whole ordeal is making my job complicated—I still have to finish up some paperwork and run errands, so I would appreciate it if we could speed up the process.”

“I covered up the crimes of my son for the sake of my reputation,” the older says, irritated. “Are you satisfied now? You’re wasting my time too.”

“I am,” says Jihoon, holding up the device. He waves it around and chuckles when the politician slams a fist on the desk, raging with fury. “Actually, I’m more than satisfied.”

“What you’re doing is illegal without my consent. You’re going to lose your job, Prosecutor Lee,” the congressman shouts, gritting his teeth.

“I’m protected by the state so I won’t lose my job so easily even if I’m contravening my duties as a prosecutor,” snickers Jihoon, heading towards the door. “The police are on their way. I’ll be seeing you very soon, Congressman Yoo.”

The blaring sirens assault Jihoon’s ears when he steps out of the building. He spots Seokmin and his team rushing towards him. “This is the only evidence we have,” the prosecutor says, digging out the recording device from his pocket. It’s plausible to assume that the defence will deem this as coercion, but this is better than nothing. “Contact me if you find anything else.”

“Of course,” replies Seokmin with a nod. He signals his team to enter into the building without him first, before continuing, “I’ll keep this safe.”

“Thanks.”  

When the police are finally out of sight, Jihoon takes out a piece of paper from his briefcase. As he begins to shred it into fragments, the one solid evidence that would lock up the two criminals right away, the prosecutor wonders if he will regret complicating his own job. 

The autumn air is chilly and his hands are trembling.

 

 

 

“You’re late, the film’s ending already,” Wonwoo says.

“I just spent hours trying to get a confession out of a major political figure. Give me some credit,” groans Jihoon. “What film is this anyway? Did you download another vapid romcom?”

“Excuse _you,_ ” Wonwoo scowls, reaching into the bowl of popcorn, grabs a handful, and aims it at his friend. “Don’t you know _Friends with Benefits?_ The one with Justin Timberlake?”

“I’ve only listened to his music during high school,” Jihoon replies. “I didn’t know he went into acting.”

“Have you been living under a rock?” Wonwoo asks, face contorting into something that resembles violation or shock. Jihoon’s not too sure. “Basically in the film the two main leads break off contact because they failed to keep everything strictly physical. He realises that he’s in love and they get back together at the end.”

“How unrealistic,” Jihoon says, trying to enunciate with as much disgust as he could. It doesn’t work according to plan by the way it sounds as insubstantial as all of the romcom scripts ever written in history. “That’s the shittiest love story I’ve ever heard in my life.”

“You’re so cold,” Wonwoo looks at him with disapproval and then jokes, “I don’t even have to perpetuate the stereotype of a cold Busan man when there’s you.”

“I’m serious,” Jihoon retorts, playing with the sleeves of Soonyoung’s coat. It’s slightly long, almost covering his entire hand.

“What’s wrong?” Wonwoo inquires over the loud music on the television.

And wow, Jihoon thinks. There’s a fucking _flashmob_ and the leads are sharing a passionate kiss after reconciling.

“Nothing’s wrong,” replies Jihoon, getting up on his feet. “I’ll see you tomorrow at work?”

“Yeah,” Wonwoo says. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

 

 

 

 

Gangnam is bustling with people and cars even when mother nature decides to soak up the streets with heavy downpour. Jihoon drives up to several apartment complexes, cursing at the fact that he does not have an umbrella on hand. And his phone. How great. He takes off the coat and bundles it up, stepping out of his car.  

He’s sick and unwell, and Jihoon knows this will worsen his cold. Taking larger strides towards the lawyer’s apartment, Jihoon’s teetering between returning the overcoat without prior notice or just rush back into his car, free from rain contacting skin.

“Hey,” someone calls out from behind.

“Hi?” Jihoon turns around, ready to shoot a look because he’s doused from head to toe and there’s no time to stop and have a good chat—except that the person is Soonyoung, dressed in a hoodie and sweats, one hand clutching the umbrella handle and the other holding a plastic bag of snacks.

“I left my phone at work so I couldn’t contact you earlier,” Jihoon says.

“It’s fine,” Soonyoung reassures, huddling closer. “I just came back from the convenience store so the timing’s right.”

“Lawyer Kwon,” Jihoon breathes out, and contemplates on taking a step back. He shivers from the cold, the rain biting icily onto his skin and really, he should be anywhere but here. “I’ve tried keeping this as dry as possible but it got wet,” the younger says, overcoat still in his arms. “But at the same time, with the vitamins and coat, I don’t know why you’re doing this.”  

“You know how you said I keep everything to myself?” asks Soonyoung. He tilts the umbrella so it’s covering the younger instead. The umbrella was only designed for one person anyway. “I’m going to do my best to be honest to you from now on. I’ll tell you what’s on my mind.”

“While I appreciate your effort, it’s too late now for the both of us, don’t you think? I want to be on good terms too. I want to put everything that we’ve done in the past. But if you’re being considerate and taking care of me like this, I don’t know what to do,” Jihoon admits. “It’s so pathetic because I want to keep a distance between us but I also don’t want you to let me go.”

“Then continue being pathetic,” Soonyoung replies, not bothering to suppress a laugh.

Jihoon didn’t know he had missed Soonyoung’s laugh so much. “What?”

“Lee Jihoon,” Soonyoung says his name for the first time in weeks. “I don’t think I can get over you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After writing this I realised fluff was never my forte lmao 
> 
> Law AU is coming to an end!! The final chapter will be (unfortunately) posted by mid June as I’m currently dying in mid-sem hell. Whoever said college was ~fun~ let’s fight 1v1.


	8. case eight: verdict

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was supposed to update after my midterms but then I realised after that I barely had a month left to prepare for finals + in conjunction w/ copious amounts of crying into my notes + my lack of time management, here’s the last (extremely belated) chapter! I hope you will enjoy nevertheless!! 
> 
> [verdict:](http://www.thefreedictionary.com/verdict) the decision of the jury after the trial of a case. Or in this case, the result of Prosecutor Lee and Lawyer Kwon's relationship.

Jihoon thinks natural law is bullshit. 

To him, law is just simply a compendium of rules to be followed, and the validity of it shouldn’t be questioned when morality comes into the picture. In short, law is amoral in a positivist’s point of view. It does not concern with the ideas of reason and justice—Jihoon would rather send people straight to jail for violating the law instead of suggesting a lenient sentence after hearing a tragic backstory from the lawyers on defence. It’s logically right to do so this way. Law is law. Period. 

So when Prosecutor Lee crosses paths with Lawyer Kwon, he sees Kwon Soonyoung and a colleague with differing views. It’s like a Shakespearean play in real life, a tragic romance—one’s siding with natural law and the other with legal positivism—and with every argument in favour of Aristotle, Aquinas and Mill, Jihoon’s here to refute with Austin, Kelsen and Hart. The cycle never ends.

“You know,” Soonyoung says. “This was where I wanted to bring Woozi to our first date.” 

“Really? I thought you were a bar type of guy,” replies Jihoon, chuckling. In this quaint café sandwiched between two boutiques in Apgujeong, it’s surprisingly empty, free from animated chatter on a busy Monday night. He holds the mug, coffee hot and warmth spreading to his fingertips. The setting’s different—they’re not mulling over on what they could’ve been, downing soju and fighting for the last piece of soondae—instead, they’re facing each other, the ambience brightly lit and comforting, imbued with a sense of serenity. 

“I thought this would be romantic,” Soonyoung jokingly says. He shrugs, and thanks the barista when a vanilla latte is placed in front of him. 

“Soonyoung,” Jihoon says, setting down his coffee. “How well do you take rejection?” 

Truth be told, Soonyoung doesn’t know what to expect—Jihoon’s not inscrutable but the prosecutor’s ambiguity at this current moment is enough to make the lawyer sit in apprehension. “Not too well, but I’ll have to get over it eventually.”

“Okay, you don’t have to get over anything,” Jihoon replies, tone gentle. “I know we’re at odds when it comes to work and that I can’t change overnight, but let’s give it a try. Let’s give _us_ a try—whatever we are.”

“—and see where this relationship goes,” Soonyoung breathes out. He grins as the younger nods, and Soonyoung doesn’t know if it’s because of relief or happiness, but his chest feels lighter and nothing in the world is strong enough to dampen his spirits in any way. 

 

 

“Prosecutor Lee, we’re public servants, not models walking for a fashion show,” Soonyoung comments, lips stretching into a smirk. He holds the elevator doors open as the prosecutor steps inside, shoving his car keys in his pockets. 

Rolling his eyes, Jihoon refrains from telling the lawyer that he should appreciate the effort because Jihoon woke up early for once to leisurely pat on product and push his hair back, instead of hitting the snooze button, body buried under several blankets, savouring and prolonging the maximum amount of warmth he can get until he rushes off to work. Now that they’re in a quasi-relationship, putting in more effort in term of appearance feels like a novelty. But like always, Jihoon finds himself speaking freely without prior thought or filter, and scoffs, “are you even qualified in the fashion department, Lawyer Kwon?” 

The older chuckles, seeing right through Jihoon and asks, “did you fix up your appearance just for me?” 

Jihoon tries not to think about how the back of their hands are brushing against each other. “No, I’m trying to impress someone else.” 

Soonyoung hums and Jihoon thinks it’s hardly conducive to his health when the lawyer leans in, warm breath ghosting over the shell of Jihoon’s ear, a hand placed on his back, whispering, “you look good today. But I think you’ll look even better without your clothes on— _ouch,_ ” Soonyoung yelps when Jihoon jabs the lawyer at the ribcage with his elbow, eyebrows furrowing. 

“We’re in a professional workplace environment,” Jihoon reminds him. The sun hasn’t risen yet—it’s early and there’s no one else in the elevator, but he says, “let’s keep a low profile here.”

“I know,” the lawyer grins, interlocking his fingers with Jihoon’s. 

“We haven’t been on a date yet and you’re holding my hands already?” 

“The amount of hypocrisy that’s oozing out of you right now is astounding, Lee Jihoon.” Soonyoung lets go of the prosecutor’s hands and looks away until he feels Jihoon reaching out to him, looking somewhat concerned. “Relax, I’m only teasing.” 

The younger huffs but intertwines their fingers together once more. When they arrive at Soonyoung’s floor, the lawyer squeezes the prosecutor’s hand and steps out. Jihoon says, “I’ll call you after work, yeah?” 

Nodding, Soonyoung blows a kiss and Jihoon has to look away, bashful, and catches it. 

 

 

There’s a sense of disquiet throughout the building when Jihoon gets back from his lunch break. Hushed whispers are heard as he walks past his colleagues and he ignores it, ostensibly from prying into unrelated business until he catches parts of the sentence—something along the lines of _Lawyer Kwon, client, hit_ —and Jihoon backtracks to the direction he came from, jabbing the elevator button open and hopping inside, pressing down onto the level where Soonyoung’s office is located at. Something stirs inside Jihoon as he watches the numbers descend down in agitation, and he feels sick. 

When the elevator finally bounces open for what seemed like eternity, the prosecutor walks in hurried steps and sees the culprit leaving the office through the glass doors, apathetic, hands soothing red knuckles. Jihoon’s gaze flitters to Soonyoung who’s currently rubbing his temple, a small patch of dried blood visible on side of his face when the prosecutor reaches the entrance, blocking the client’s pathway. He can feel his insides clench and his heart shattering into jagged fragments because just by witnessing what he’s seeing right now, he can come to a conclusion that the lawyer’s client did in fact hit him. 

“Get out of my way.” He attempts to push past Jihoon but the prosecutor stops the action with a firm grip on the shoulder, causing the accused to stumble backwards.

The client seems indifferent to what he had done and that riles Jihoon the most. Curling his fists, Jihoon bares his teeth and raises his voice, “I honestly don’t care if you had an altercation. But you do not touch our lawyers, am I clear?”

“Do you even have the right to demand things from me?” the client spits back. 

“I do. I can also ask the judge to extend your sentence as these rights are vested in me as a prosecutor. I will make sure that you will not walk free and that you will rot in jail without parole,” Jihoon hisses, voice laced with tones of menace. 

“Your decisions as of now aren’t legally binding, _prosecutor._ It’s funny how people like you think it’s okay to parade around with your unfettered powers. Do you think you can scare me with such mere words?”

“Jihoon,” Soonyoung calls out. He shakes his head and sighs, “it’s okay, let him go.” 

“But he hurt you,” retorts Jihoon. “If no one puts him back in place, he will do it again in the future.” 

“Yes, him hitting me was surprising but that doesn’t matter now. The problem is that this isn’t your case, Jihoon.” 

The prosecutor sighs and runs a hand through his hair. There’s no point arguing, even technically, Soonyoung’s remaining civil. Jihoon feels like a kid being scolded for blowing a situation out of proportion, and he knows that this is where they clash, so, albeit reluctantly, he steps back in defeat to make way for the client to leave. 

“I’ll talk to him again later,” Soonyoung heaves a sigh as Jihoon pulls a chair beside him.

“You’re just letting him go like that?” 

Soonyoung hums. “You didn’t have to threaten him. He’ll be fine once he calms down.”

“So not only you’re condoning what he did, you’re also siding with him?” Jihoon growls. It comes out angrier than he intends to, and he’s already regretting and wanting to take back his words because they’re regressing back to the stage where they point fingers at each other, refusing to bring solutions to problems logically, resorting to blame.

Soonyoung’s expression isn’t inscrutable, it’s clear that he’s fatigued and doesn’t have the energy to prove a point. And that alone is enough to cue Jihoon to switch the question. He asks, softly, “how bad is the injury? Do I need to get someone to patch you up?”

“It’s only a scratch. Besides, it’s barely visible so it’s nothing major,” Soonyoung states. The concerning look on Jihoon’s face suggests that the prosecutor isn’t convinced, but because the lawyer believes optimism is the only way to get through potential setbacks and that there’s no time to wallow in misery, he holds Jihoon’s hands to reassure the younger. Soonyoung tries not to tremble too much. “Relax. I know how to defend myself, I did taekwondo as a kid.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yeah. I’m fine, really,” says Soonyoung. “I’m more surprised that you ran here. The last time I’ve seen you so concerned over something was that one time when you treated me to dinner and saw the bill afterwards.” 

“What am I, stone cold? Incapable of emotions?” Jihoon says, unimpressed. For some reason, his response elicits a laugh out of Soonyoung, and Jihoon finds himself loosening up and chuckling along. “Are you going to let someone else takeover the case?” 

“I’m not the dropping case,” Soonyoung declares. “He’s my client and it’s my job to mitigate his sentence.” 

“But what he did today cannot be overlooked, Soonyoung.” They’re carrying on the conversation, ignoring the fact that they’re still holding hands. It’s warm and strangely comforting.

“I know, but it was bound to happen. How else would he react when I told him the moment we met that we have to plead guilty because he has no solid alibi? The lawyer continues, “he’s under immense psychological stress and because he’s alone, I’m here on defence to show him that there is someone supporting him through this process and although I’m not exculpating him, he’s still treated as a valid, human being.”

“Human rights over the law?” Jihoon clicks his tongue. _Ah, righteous lawyers._ “I still can’t fathom the way you work, but I’m trying.” 

“I know,” Soonyoung chimes. He squeezes Jihoon’s hands and flashes a smile, eyes like the crescent moon of the night. “You’re doing well.”

It’s a beautiful smile, Jihoon thinks. He tells himself on the way back to his own office that he’ll do whatever it takes to never see Soonyoung’s smile fade ever again. 

 

 

At some point at the peak of Jihoon’s career in the legal industry, he learns that oddly, bathrooms are great for confrontations—you don’t have to lean in to get your message delivered across when your bodies are practically fused against each other.

“For some reason we always end up in here,” Soonyoung states, watching Jihoon lock the cubicle door. “Is this becoming a tradition?” 

“Maybe.”

“What’s wrong?” 

“You. That’s what’s wrong,” Jihoon mutters, crossing his arms. “Why were you here at today’s trial? The lawyers on defence are from a different firm so I doubt you were here to support them.”

“I was here for you,” Soonyoung says, a sheepish grin pulling at the corners of his mouth. 

“Oh,” Jihoon manages to say. _Oh._

“—since you’re trying your best for us, I thought that I had to put effort too.”

“But what you’re doing is very distracting,” the younger blurts out. Speaking at court is what Jihoon prides himself in—he’s a revered prosecutor who’s poised and talks with the upmost confidence, turning his statements into the truth, enchanting the jury into believing every single word he says akin to a spell—however, today was a different case when he met eyes with Soonyoung in the middle of his rebuttal and ended up stuttering and fumbling over his words. 

“I’m distracting?” Soonyoung leans in, a cheeky expression plastered all over his face, as if they weren’t already close enough. 

“Yeah,” Jihoon trails off. 

It’s difficult maintaining eye contact and Jihoon still can’t comprehend why he’s unable to feign confidence in front of the lawyer. Suddenly glancing down to Soonyoung’s lips, Jihoon diverts his attention back to the lawyer’s eyes quickly. The prosecutor licks his lips and gulps because Soonyoung _knows,_ and he shuts his eyes as the lawyer closes the space between them, soft lips on his own. 

“Soonyoung—” Jihoon pants, parting his lips as Soonyoung slips in his tongue. It’s nothing new because they’ve done this multiple times, but Jihoon still finds it thrilling being unable to hold himself together, a quivering and moaning mess when the older takes the lead—a surge of adrenaline, excitement pulsing through his body as Soonyoung runs his tongue over the roof of Jihoon’s mouth, and suddenly his head is dizzy and the air is hot and difficult to breathe in. Soonyoung goes back to kissing him, sucking on swollen lips and then his jaw and neck, steadying the prosecutor as he slides his hands down to Jihoon’s hips. 

“Soonyoung,” Jihoon says again, whimpers slipping out of his lips, bodies pressing against each other, seeking friction. At this time, Soonyoung’s working on the prosecutor’s belt until Jihoon stops him. “Let’s not have sex,” Jihoon states when they pull back. He pauses for a short moment to regain his breath and then continues, “even if I want to. Let’s not do it until we become official.” 

“Okay,” Soonyoung smiles, brushing the younger’s fringe from his eyes. “As long as you’re comfortable and ready.”

“It’s just that I don’t want you to feel like I’m only here to get laid.”

Nodding his head, Soonyoung presses a kiss onto Jihoon’s forehead and says, “I know.”

Jihoon grins in return, “I’m not going to lie, I liked sleeping with you though, even when we hated each other’s guts.” 

“Really? I initially thought I was witnessing sublimation in action—you know, instead of yielding to the urges of wanting to punch me square in the jaw, you slept with me instead as an alternative method.” 

“Well, I guess you’re half right on that.” 

They exit the courthouse bathroom in silence, fingers intertwined with Jihoon even more determined to not screw up whatever they have unlike his past relationships. In a way, Soonyoung gave him a chance—and Jihoon’s not letting this opportunity to slip past his fingers again. 

“Prosecutor Lee!” Jihoon hears, footsteps running towards him, and immediately lets go of the lawyer’s hand. Soonyoung steps back, leaving a short distance between him and Jihoon. It’s rather odd, no one should be here since the trial ended a while ago.

“Officer Lee Seokmin called and told me that they’ve retrieved new pieces of evidence for the Yoo Jaeho case—they finally have an arrest warrant. I’ll take back your files from today’s trial back to the office first,” Chan tells Jihoon. 

“Okay, I’ll go to the police station right now. I’ll see you later.”

“Uh, you might want do something about that before you go,” Chan replies, gesturing at the prosecutor’s neck. “I’ll get you a bandage but I’m not sure if that’s large enough to conceal it.”

“Do something about what?” Jihoon asks, perplexed. The intern breaks eye contact and tries not to laugh, but the attempts are futile. 

“You might want to ask Soonyoung-hyung, since I assume he’s the one responsible for the hickies.”

“Hickies?” Jihoon almost yells out of horror. There’s no way Chan will ever let him live this down, especially when the man involved is Lawyer Kwon, the rival of the prosecutor’s—wait, screw that—even Soonyoung won’t let him forget about this in the future. 

“I’ll take my leave now,” Chan grins. 

“What the fuck did you do?” Jihoon says to Soonyoung after his intern is out of sight. The inability to control the heat rushing to his cheeks doesn’t alleviate the situation in any way. 

“He’s twenty-four, Jihoon. Chan’s not a kid, this won’t scare him. He has probably seen worse or something. I’m sure he’ll forget about it.”

“If you were going to leave marks, at least do it where people can’t see.”

Soonyoung shoves his hands into his pockets like it’s no big deal, except that it’s a big deal—Jihoon reminds himself to rehearse a convoluted excuse if Chan ever tries to pry or pester him about this in the future, or Jihoon will be waving goodbye to his respected, feared and confident image. 

“Like your inner thighs since that’s your favourite spot?” the lawyer says, tone casual.

Jihoon opens his mouth to say something but nothing coherent or audible comes out. He resorts to elbowing the older and storms off, face buried in his hands, the laughter coming from Soonyoung echoing in the district courthouse. 

(Soonyoung sends him an apology later on the day via KakaoTalk when Jihoon comes back to the office for lunch, along with several heart emoticons and _ㅠㅠ‘s._ Jihoon’s phone vibrates again as he contemplates between ordering _doenjang_ or _kimchi_ jjigae—it’s a photo of Soonyoung pouting (thankfully _not_ naked, although let’s be real, he wouldn’t complain either way)—and the prosecutor makes a noise so loud in the middle of the cafeteria that even a well, formulated, convoluted excuse won’t save him from the embarrassment now.)

 

 

At first, Jihoon thinks he had just heard wrong, maybe even experiencing auditory hallucinations. It was completely normal to overthink and lead yourself into believing that something’s wrong, he reassures himself as he pushes the doors open into the meeting room. However, Yejin was extra chirpy earlier on the day, eye-smiles and all, patting Jihoon on the back and telling him to keep up the good work he does for the prosecution team. And that doesn’t just stop there—she greets Chan when he comes back from the kitchenette to deliver Prosecutor Lee’s short black. It’s not a new fact that Yejin dotes on Chan, almost mother-like. The senior prosecutor converses with the intern all the time like she does with everybody, but what makes Jihoon panic for a split-second is that they’re occasionally glancing back at him, blatantly obvious when they laugh. 

So, Jihoon does what he swears to never do—he draws a conclusion on assumptions alone that Chan has leaked information about what happened between him and Soonyoung at the district courthouse. Karma’s a bitch, and he regrets not treating the intern better. 

He takes a seat at the back of the meeting room, away from Soonyoung and Chan to not raise further suspicions. The gathering between the lawyers and prosecutors are mundane—something about a change in management and new associates—Jihoon zones out majority of the time until the Chief Prosecutor congratulates him because Yoo Jaeho is finally arrested. The man is wealthy so it’s going to be a long battle, but Jihoon’s not giving up on the fight so easily. Lawyer Kwon goes up to the lectern to speak too, and when the seminar finishes, Jihoon breathes out a sigh of relief. 

“I think people are suspecting that we’re dating,” Jihoon says, approaching the lawyer at the lectern after the meeting is dismissed, save for a few prosecutors, Chan and Secretary Wen. 

“Well, they’re kind of right,” Soonyoung replies, tone nonchalant. “We’ve been screwing for several months—” 

“—Lawyer Kwon,” Jihoon interjects. 

“What?” Soonyoung turns around and faces Jihoon, cheeks coated lightly with a pink hue. He’s about to laugh at how easy Jihoon gets flustered except that the rest of the people are seemingly doing the task for him—Soonyoung hears his colleagues trying to stifle their laughter. It’s not until Jihoon sighs, almost in defeat, that he realises that something’s definitely wrong. 

Directing his attention towards the end of the room to pinpoint the problem, he sees Chan moving his arms, gesturing wildly and mouthing _the mic is still on, hyung!_ and really, this should’ve been an indication to prevent Soonyoung from making a social blunder. 

“We’re terrible at keeping it low key, aren’t we?”

“Yeah, we are.” 

 

 

“Hey.”

The prosecutor looks up and waves, “hey.” It’s Soonyoung. 

“What brings you here to our printing room?” 

“We ran out of paper so I’m using yours,” says Jihoon. 

“ _Correction:_ you’re abusing your privileges,” the lawyer laughs. 

Soonyoung inches closer and Jihoon shrugs, with cheeky countenance, and replies, “yep.” The older wraps his arms around the prosecutor, head resting on Jihoon’s shoulder. It only felt like yesterday when the concept of being courteous to each other never existed, satiating themselves through words shouted out of hatred, tension so thick even hypothetically, a knife couldn’t slice it in half—but now, they find solace in each other. “Something up?”

“Just tired,” Soonyoung mumbles, yawning. “Junhui told me that I was stepping over the line in the meeting room. He said that I should keep the humiliation at court only, not at the workplace.” 

“Your secretary scolded you?” Jihoon chuckles, patting the lawyer’s back. “But that means we can continue on keeping a low profile since people will just think you’re just teasing me and that their assumptions will stop.”

“My juniors will think I’m a really shitty person.”

“Not my problem,” Jihoon shrugs. He laughs when Soonyoung contorts his expression into some semblance of disapproval. “There there, you’ll be fine.” 

“You seem like a person who get off to the suffering of other people.” 

“Maybe I do,” the prosecutor smiles, scrunching his nose. Stepping on his tiptoes, Jihoon cups Soonyoung’s face gently and leans in.

“Gross,” Soonyoung chuckles, placing his hands on the younger’s waist as Jihoon laughs into the kiss. 

It’s soft and slow, no urgency to keep things quick and discreet—until Junhui barges in—and Jihoon pulls apart quickly, busying himself with the stack of papers churning out from the printer. 

Secretary Wen clears his throat, “Soonyoung, your client was just on the phone. She wants to postpone the consultation to next week. I told her I’ll call back later.” 

Soonyoung nods, “that’s fine.” 

“I have some work to complete so, uh, I’ll call you later,” Jihoon tells the lawyer. He tries to play it cool, trudging to the exit, unfaltering confidence evident. “Secretary Wen,” he greets, before disappearing from the room.

“Prosecutor Lee,” Junhui nods. Turning back to Soonyoung, he smirks but doesn’t say anything.

“Why are you staring at me like that?” Soonyoung groans. 

“You were just locking lips with Prosecutor Lee. He’s cool though, your boyfriend shrugged it off as if nothing happened,” Junhui snorts. “Now Wonwoo owes me ten thousand won since we made a bet if the rumours were true.”

“You guys made a bet? Unbelievable,” Soonyoung replies, mouth agape. 

“Yeah. I totally saw it coming though,” Junhui says, casual. “Well, it's kind of obvious. I had a feeling ever since you wrote _Lee v Kwon,_ open bracket twenty-sixteen close bracket on our office whiteboard.” The secretary curves his hands, making parentheses as he speaks. There’s no doubt he’s amused and taking the piss out of the entire situation. 

“That was a sign?” 

“I mean, you two were going to end up together one way or another. I've seen enough movies to know what the mere-exposure effect does to people even if they're arguing 24/7.”

“Do I have to buy you meat for you to keep your mouth shut?” Soonyoung heaves a sigh. 

“As expected, you know me so well, Lawyer Kwon. There’s a new samgyeopsal place down the road. I have to run some errands now so I’ll see you after work,” the secretary winks. 

(Junhui bumps into Wonwoo on the way to dinner. He chirps, “Soonyoung invited you too?”

Wonwoo nods, “he’s bribing me with food to ensure that I don’t say anything. But we all know the only one who has the tendency to accidentally expose people in our company group chat is you.”

“Sure,” the secretary laughs, slinging an arm around Wonwoo. “You still owe me money, but I’ll forget about me winning the bet if you buy me drinks later.” 

“Secretary by day and freeloader by night,” Wonwoo chuckles, pushing the door open. 

When they step in, they spot Lawyer Kwon and Prosecutor Lee on the left. Soonyoung’s regaling Jihoon about his latest victory at court while the prosecutor is grilling meat. The four eat together as if it’s not their first time, laughter filling the air and cheeks rosy from the heat. All is well.)

 

 

The plan to keep their hands to themselves backfires. 

As if the hints weren’t enough, Jihoon should’ve seen it coming one way or another because a) Soonyoung’s a naturally touchy person and b) Jihoon has the propensity to state one thing but do the complete opposite. 

_Case one: the district courthouse._

Winning the prosecution is what Jihoon does best no matter how well trained the defence counsel is, even if it’s someone like Kwon Soonyoung. It’s self-explanatory. After graduating from one of the best law schools in the country, Jihoon secured a spot at the top of the industry by the time he was practicing as a junior prosecutor. Now that he’s twenty-seven, he’s Prosecutor Lee, the indomitable rival at court, the one who manipulates the jury to side with him with only a few words, invigorating aspiring prosecutors alike to be like him and to familiar themselves with legal parlance. 

And yet, his hands are clammy and he feels unsteady. He clutches the sides of his prosecutor’s robe with one hand as Lawyer Kwon paces around, questioning the witness, ensuring the jury that there are no qualms on the defendant’s innocence whatsoever. 

“So my client was with you during the time where he allegedly shoplifted?” Soonyoung asks, spinning a pen, deft. Jihoon doesn’t really know why he’s holding a pen, but no one is questioning him, not even the judge. The witness nods and claims that she has evidence that can be brought forward. 

Which also means that Jihoon’s fucked for sure. 

“No further questions,” Soonyoung says to the judge. He quickly glances to Jihoon on the other side, a smug grin apparent and really, in Jihoon’s purported unconquerable reputation, he should be panicking and preparing on how to deter the jurors from coming to a unanimous decision on a not guilty verdict, judging by the direction the trial is going. 

Except that Jihoon’s not because the lawyer promptly drops his pen onto the ground, and bends down to retrieve it, pinstripe pants sinfully clinging onto thighs and ass—Jihoon lets out a gasp, pants suddenly restricting, and realises that he has been staring at Soonyoung (read: his body) for too long. 

_Fuck._ He’s so whipped. 

 

 _Case two: the monthly scheduled workplace dinner._

“Prosecutor Lee, it was unfortunate that you didn’t do so well today,” Soonyoung snickers. “I guess I’ll be claiming all the victories at court from now on.” 

“Are you insinuating that I’m incompetent?” Jihoon scoffs, glancing around the table. The lawyers and prosecutors from the firm are happily chatting away, not questioning the two about today’s trial because they’re Prosecutor Lee and Lawyer Kwon, two individuals of legal expertise who do their job with finesse. Their rivalry is salient, but no one has the audacity to actually pry into details, even when this is the first time they’ve openly sat next to each other at such close proximity in public. Although, unbeknown to Jihoon, the tension between the two serves as entertaining gossip between the younger ones in the kitchenette. (And yes, Seungkwan’s still holding a grudge against Jihoon for destroying the public defender so ruthlessly that one time.)

“No, just easily distracted,” Soonyoung says, leaning in. He whispers, and thankfully out of consideration in front of everyone, “you were eyeing me the whole time. Did you like the view when I dropped my pen?”

Jihoon coughs and almost spits out his drink, almost. He looks away, pink tinge coating his face, and offers to pour Yejin soju, decanting the beverage into her shot glass. 

“To be honest, I’m more interested in what you did after since you disappeared so quickly,” asks Soonyoung. 

“I had to take care of something,” Jihoon replies, refusing to meet eyes. He diverts his attention to Prosecutor Jeon and Secretary Wen engaging in discourse in front of him, trying to block out the fact that his heart is pounding so loudly at his chest and that Soonyoung has placed his hand on Jihoon’s thigh under the table. 

“In the bathroom?” the lawyer smirks. In return, Jihoon slides Soonyoung’s hands up, cheeks so red and hot he can’t even blame it on the alcohol because they’re conversing in sobriety. 

“I think you know what I mean,” Jihoon mumbles. It’s beyond risky because they can be caught at any second now and there’s no excuse good enough to explain why Lawyer Kwon’s fingers are brushing against Prosecutor Lee’s crotch, but Jihoon doesn’t let go of Soonyoung’s hand, skin tingling.

He finds himself sinking down onto Soonyoung’s cock at the back of his car after the get-together ends, nails digging into Soonyoung’s skin as Jihoon tries to adjust to the sensation. The only sound audible are Soonyoung’s grunts and the lewd noises slipping out of Jihoon’s mouth when he starts to roll his hips, bouncing on Soonyoung’s lap, ass slapping against thighs. 

(“So does that mean we’re _officially_ official?” Soonyoung pants, pulling Jihoon closer to him. “Since we just fucked in the back of your car.” 

“I guess,” Jihoon hums, resting comfortably on Soonyoung’s chest. Post-coital cuddling for the first time is nice, even if their bodies are sweaty and the plush, leather seats are no longer pristine. Jihoon really hopes the older won’t notice how rapid his heart is beating. “I rushed things, didn’t I?”

“We were both fine with this, so it’s okay,” the older says, smiling when Jihoon looks up. “So stop worrying because I think we’ll do just fine.”

And they do.) 

 

 

Jihoon wakes up to the sound of the obnoxiously loud ringtone Soonyoung had set on his phone. His head hurts, but he has no recollection of drinking until he was drunk the night before. It’s six-something in the morning and it’s too early to be awake at this hour when the entire neighbourhood is in a peaceful slumber—he groans—and hopes the ringing of the alarm will eventually come to a halt. It doesn’t.

“Soonyoung, we need to get ready for work,” Jihoon mumbles in his half-asleep state. “And turn that bloody alarm off.” 

The older says something but the jumbled and slurred words are difficult to decipher. 

Reluctantly, Jihoon sits up, rubbing the back of his head and complains, “romantic my ass. My head hurts like a bitch, I’m never sleeping on your arm again.”

Soonyoung mutters, “yeah, I can’t feel it.” He pulls the blanket over his head but Jihoon yanks it away from him.

“We’re going to be late,” Jihoon says, impatient. “I need to go back home because I didn’t bring an extra change of clothes. And I can’t wear last night’s work attire since we ruined them.”

“You can wear mine,” Soonyoung grins. “Just take your pick from the closet.”

“While I appreciate your act of kindness, I am not stepping into the office with cartoon characters on my tie.”

“What’s wrong with them?” whines the older, unamused.

“Pretty much everything is wrong with them,” Jihoon chuckles. Rolling over Soonyoung, which earns a groan from the older, to press the alarm off, he says, “let’s go on a proper date after work. I want to know Kwon Soonyoung, not Lawyer Kwon. I want to know if you’re a morning or a night person and how you take your coffee and what makes you weak in the knees and what makes you furious.” 

“You.”

The loud, blaring noise finally ends. “Hmm?” Jihoon asks, not catching what Soonyoung had said. The morning sunrise flitters through the curtains, casting a soft glow on Soonyoung. And wow, Jihoon thinks. For the first time, the prosecutor was not immediately kicked out or planning a variety of ways in his head on how to slip out of the apartment without being noticed after waking up on a bed that was not his own. He’s clothed too, clad in Soonyoung’s old shirt and sweatpants, sleeves too long and all. Moving to a more comfortable position on top of Soonyoung, Jihoon says, “did you say something?”

“I’m answering your question,” replies Soonyoung. 

“Yeah?” 

They have a long way to go but it will be worth it to wake up next to Soonyoung every day like this, Jihoon tells himself as the older smiles at him, eyes sparkling of fond. 

Leaning down, Jihoon presses a soft kiss on Soonyoung’s lips, and as he does, Soonyoung tells him, “the person has always been you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ➹ The legal concepts/schools of jurisprudence I had briefly mentioned at the start of the chapter (natural law and legal positivist theories) are only some of the many! If you are interested, I found a [pdf](http://web.nmsu.edu/~dscoccia/376web/376lpaust.pdf) on google that talks about the two in general. 
> 
> ➹ This brings us to the end of law au! Thank you so much for leaving kudos, comments and for reading!! ㅠㅠ ♡ tbh I didn’t really expect people to be interested in law au at first because this fic was very self-indulgent haha
> 
> (@ my pre-law tutor for first sem, sorry for using what you’ve taught us for gay fanfic. But hey, at least I did learn something lmao. I swear I'm team natural law?? Maybe???) 
> 
> ➹ If you have any concrit/comments pls feel free to leave them!!


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